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VIC. 


A NOVEL 




BENEIMO. 

• 


0 


AUTHOR OP “THE 'WATERTON MYSTERY,” “THE PERSONALS,” “THE 8TOLEN 
LOCKET,” “ CRUEL CIRCUMSTANCES,” “ THE PRICELESS PICTURE,” “THE 
BYPIELD DIVORCE CASE,” “ THE SINGER’S LOVE,” “ SECRETS OP THE 
SANCTUM,” ETC., ETC., ETC. 




NEW YORK : 

THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

BOND STREET. 

\ v ■* 


^YSV 


Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1879, by 
A. BENRIMO, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
All rights reserved. 


IN LIEU OF PREFACE, 


J 


(From the New York Evening Express.) 

“Vic ” is the title of a dramatic and humorous novel (in press) by a New York 
journalist. One of the chief characters of the story is a certain Doctor Philander 
Potter Portley, a patent medicine manufacturer. It will be published in a few days 
by the Authors’ Publishing Company, New York. 

(From the New York Star.) 

“Vic” is the title of a humorous and dramatic novel (in press), by a New York 
journalist. A patent medicine manufacturer— Doctor Philander Potter Portley— 
is one of the characters of the story. It will be published in a few days by the 
Authors’ Publishing Company, New York. 

(From the Era , New York.) 

“Vic ” is the title of a humorous and exciting novel (in press) by. a well-known 
New York journalist. It will be published in a few days. It is described as a 
bright, well-told, highly dramatic story of American life, with a strong plot, witty 
dialogue, startling situations, rapid action, and powerful and well-delineated char- 
acters. One of the chief personages is a patent medicine manufacturer— Doctor 
Philander Potter Portley,— who constantly recommends, in and out of season, with 
and without provocation, his “ Preservative Preparations,” and his “ Pills, Pow- 
ders, Pellets and Potions.” He is a type of a very prevalent individual. “ Vic ” 
—the heroine of the story— is a bold and original creation, and likewise a truly 
noble and lovable woman, not without a spice of fun in her composition. It will 
be issued by the Authors’ Publishing Co., New York. 

Notices similar to the above having appeared in the papers, 
being the usual announcement of a forthcoming novel, the 
following correspondence, — which explains itself, — resulted : 

New York, Sept. 8 , 1879 . 

To the Author of “ Vic,” 

{Care of Authors ' 1 Publishing Co., New York) : 

Sir : — I see that mention is made in the papers that you are the 
author of a work of fiction, about to be published, in which you not 

( 3 ) 


4 


IN LIEU OF' PREFACE. 


only have the impudence to mention me by name, but likewise to 
portray me in a contemptuous and ridiculous light ; — further, that 
you attack my business and standing in the community. My purpose 
in writing to you is to warn you to desist, for you are on the brink 
of a libel suit. If you print my name in your book, 1 shall be com- 
pelled, in self-defence, to come down upon you with the terrors of 
the law. If you attempt to utter your revolting libels against me, 
a prison stares you in the face. Be warned in time. If, by your in- 
tended publication, you cast odium upon my name and bring into 
ridicule and discredit my Preservative Preparations, which have 
stood the test of thirty years, and by the manufacture and sale of 
which, I support myself and family, you make yourself liable for 
damages. I shall enjoin its publication, and have you arrested for 
libel. My counsel informs me, that not only can I stop the sale of 
the book — in its present shape — but likewise, I can bring suit against 
you for malicious libel. And I’ll do it. Understand, sir, when I thus 
threaten you, I do so from a sense of prospective injury to my busi- 
ness and my material interests, which every man is bound to protect 
by all the means which the law affords. 

Respectfully, 

Philander Potter Portley, M. D. 

New York, Sept. 9, 1879. 
Doctor Philander Potter Portley : 

Sir Many thanks for your letter of yesterday. It has solved two 
problems with which I have hitherto unsuccessfully coped. The 
problems were, whether or no, I should write a preface to “Vic,” 
and what the preface onght to contain. I received your letter 
while thus undetermined. The question is settled now in the affirm- 
ative. I have concluded to print your letter in lieu of preface to 
“Vic,” which I am happy to inform you will be published, with all 
possible expedition, “in its present shape.” 

Respectfully, 

A. Benrimo, 

Author of “Vic.” 


CONTENTS, 


BOOK I.— PHILPOT’S DETECTIVE AGENCY. 

I. — Brother and Sister 9 

II. — The Disguise 18 

III. — The Promissory Note 22 

IV. — The Bargain Fulfilled 33 

BOOK II.— PORTLEY AT HOME. 

I. — The New Neighbors t 41 

II. — The Intruder 46 

III. — The Wedding-Day Fixed . . 50 

IV. — A Desperate Threat 55 

V. — Vic Makes a Startling Disclosure 59 

VI. — The Promissory Note Again 69 

VII. — Jenny Complains of the Key-Hole 79 

VIII.— St. John Draws a Conclusion 84 

IX. — Behind the Window-Curtains 90 

X. — Vic’s Heroic Deed 99 

BOOK III.— IN VIC’S HOUSE. 

I.— St. John Makes a Discovery. 107 

II. — Portley’s Suspicions Aroused 114 

III. — Portley Makes an Arrest 119 

IV. — A Revelation.. • 127 

V. — The Mock-Marriage Proposal 132 

VI. — The Man that will Always do His Duty 137 

VII. — Portley’s Mission 144 


( 5 ) 









X 




% 


\ 

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BOOK I. 

PHILPOT’S DETECTIVE AGENCY. 




(O 




VIC. 


BOOK I.— PHILPOT’S DETECTIVE AGENCY. 

I. 

BROTHER AHD SISTER. 

The twenty-fourth of March, 1879, was a clear day, but 
cold for the season. 

Philpot’s Detective Agency was situated on the second 
story of a huge marble front building in Broadway near 
Trinity Church. About ten o’clock in the morning of the 
day above named, a young man sat before the fire in the 
outer office reserved for callers. He was alone. He had a 
newspaper in his lap ; and leaning lazily back in his chair, 
he leizurely smoked a cigar. 

The room is rather small, and its two windows look out 
upon Broadway, with its surging sea of countless vehicles. 
A desk, with chairs on either side, stands endwise against 
one of the windows. A lounge stretches across in front of 
the other. Opposite the fireplace is the entrance-door from 
the hallway. A large, square sign fills the mantel space. 
It is in gilt letters on a black ground to the following 

(9) 


10 


VIC. 


effect: “Detectives furnished. All branches. Private 
inquiry in all the great cities of the world, a specialty.” 

Facing the desk is a door that opens into a private 
room. On the right of this door is a little window cut in 
the wall, and looking into the outer office. A few engrav- 
ings hang on the walls of the latter. The floor is carpeted. 

The young man sitting at the fire is probably about 
twenty ; tall, pale, and rather dissipated in appearance, yet 
decidedly handsome. He gave a stretch, yawned, sunk 
back in his chair, and planting his feet on the edge of the 
mantel-piece, took the cigar out of his mouth and slowly 
emitted a cloud of smoke. 

“ Well, I’ve been here a week on trial,” he spoke to him- 
self, half aloud, “ and I must say I like the business im- 
mensely. So far I’ve had nothing particular to do, and 
thanks to my great natural abilities and my enormous 
industry, I have performed the task to my own and my em- 
ployer’s satisfaction. How pleasant it is when employer and 
employed are in such perfect accord ! Who says labor and 
capital can’t agree ? The very first thing that old Philpot 
said when he engaged me was, 1 Now, Gil, you just snook 
around the place and get the run of things,’ and by Jove, 
after a week’s snooking around and getting the run, I rather 
think I like it.” 

His reflections were disturbed by the noise of some one 
in the hall trying the handle of the door. He jumped up 
with amazing alacrity, put his cigar down on the desk, at 
which he sat, and wrote in a memorandum book with a 
pencil that had no point. 

A boy in navy blue came in, wearing a cap which bore 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


11 


the legend, “ District Telegraph Messenger.” He had 
a book in one hand, and in the other, a sealed envelope. 
He read the superscription as he entered. 

“ Gilbert Fernandez. Philpot’s Detective Agency.” 

“That’s me, young fellow. Fetch it over, and look 
sharp, too. I’m driven to death, you see.” 

Thus admonished by the intently busied young gentle- 
man at the desk, the messenger boy hurried across the 
room, handed him the telegram and book, which latter he 
receipted and gave back. 

The boy’s keen eyes are fastened on the cigar stump pro- 
jecting from the edge of the desk with the lighted end 
outward. 

“ Say, mister, can I have that butt ? ” 

“ Take it, sonny, and be happy. It’s a stinkadora,” re- 
plied its owner, as he tears open the telegram. 

“Thank you, sir,” returns the boy, as he pounces on the 
much-coveted prize, puts it into his mouth, draws hard, and 
exits, leaving the door ajar. 

Mr. Gilbert Fernandez read the telegram hastily. It ran 
as follows : 

“ Taken suddenly ill. Unable to leave the house. You’ll 
be alone for at least three hours. After that two or three 
of our people will be in to report. Enter their reports. If 
any ‘ biz ’ comes in, take it and look sharp. Come to my 
house in the evening. Philpot.” 

“ And so,” mused he, “ I’m monarch of all I survey for 
three mortal hours.” 

He resumed his favorite posture before the fire — namely, 
sitting back in his chair, with his feet perched on the edge 


12 


VIC 


of the mantel, in which position he lounged, glancing over 
the newspaper. 

“Well, I do wish somebody would bring in a big case,” 
thus he reflected. “ Say a great bank robbery, or an enor- 
mous bond swindle. I’d just show old Philpot that he 
could safely trust me with confidential ‘ biz.’ I’d just ferret 
out the whole thing in a jiffy. I’d know by instinct who 
were the guilty parties, where they had secreted the swag, 
and I’d have all my plans ready to nab ’em, and, by Jove, 
I’d have the ‘ stuff,’ and the men in quod by the time I went 
up to old Philpot’s this evening. I’d show ’em what Gil 
Fernandez could do.” 

Now he began to stretch and yawn. His eye caught a 
heading in the newspaper, which he read as follows, between 
gapes, “‘Great Bobbery in a Bank.’ O, no; pshaw ! 
‘Great Robbery in a Bank!’ That’s it. Well, it’s much 
the same thing. Our folks are in that affair.” And here 
he gave a prolonged yawn and a great stretch. “And 
we’re on their track ; ” now he nodded and his eyes dulled, 
“ their track.” Here he shook himself, exclaiming : “ Damn 
it ! How deuced drowsy I am ? That lager ! Up too 
late last night, Gil, my boy, and that lager.” Now he nods 
deeper and his eyes slowly close. “ We’re on their track ; 
— track of the — lager — la ” 

The second syllable of the popular beverage is forever 
lost in a guttural snore as Mr. Gilbert Fernandez falls into 
a doze. 

At this moment the office door was slowly pushed open, 
and a tall, dark, beautiful woman, richly and tastefully 
attired in a walking suit, stood on the threshold and looked 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


13 


in somewhat timidly, and then entered with a hesitating 
step. Apparently she did not notice the sleeper, whose 
back was towards her. She looked around with curiosity 
evidently surprised at seeing no one. 

The fair stranger was specially noticeable for her shapely 
and commanding figure, which was finely rounded and well- 
proportioned. She carried herself with the most charming 
grace and ease, while her dignity and stateliness were de- 
rived, in part, from her stature, which was much above the 
medium height. She was a brunette, with a bewitching 
countenance of superb and queenly beauty ; great black 
eyes ; full curved lips, red as coral ; a tinge of color on her 
lovely cheeks ; and a firm, bold chin finely moulded. A 
glance at her fascinating face gave you an insight into her 
character: impulse, enthusiasm, fire; wrapped up in and 
given over to her idol; ever noble, true, sincere, and de- 
voted ; a keen, bright, quick intellect. 

“Pm in the right office? Yes, that’s the sign.” She 
glanced at the lettering on the door. “ What a queer 
place ! There seems to be no one here ! ” And now for the 
first time she saw the young gentleman who had been over- 
come by drowsiness. “ Oh, here’s somebody ! Why, he’s 
asleep. I’ll just take a peep at him — only one — to see what 
he looks like.” 

She stealthily approached the sleeper, and looked into his 
face. She started back with a half-suppressed scream. 

“ It’s my brother Gil ! ” she exclaimed, in surprise. “ He 
here ? What shall I do ? ” She turned irresolutely towards 
the door, took a few steps and stopped in an attitude of 
thought. 


14 


VIC. 

Gil was on his feet in an instant, rubbing his eyes. 

“ I could have sworn I heard a woman scream,” he said 
to himself. “ I do believe I’ve been napping. Pretty de- 
tective I am.” 

He now perceived the lady’s presence. 

“Ah ! Excuse me, madam. Take a chair — Gracious 
goodness me,” he broke out. “Vie ! Yic ! Can I believe 
my eyes, or am I dreaming ? ” 

“Yes, dear Gil,” she returned, as she shook him warmly 
by the hand and gave him her cheek to kiss. “ It’s me. I 
was quite as much astonished to see you here as you are to 
see me. Tell me how you came here ? ” 

“ Ho, Vic, you tell me, how you come to be so unexpect- 
edly in Hew York, and why you are in this office ? When 
did you leave San Francisco ? ” 

“ A week ago, yesterday, Gil. I arrived here direct from 
San Francisco yesterday morning.” 

“Well, come, sit down by the fire and tell me all the 
news from home,” said Gil, as he placed chairs. “ Father 
and mother and all the folks well ? ” 

“All very well, Gil. You look splendid, and you’ve 
grown quite a man.” 

With a sweet smile she patted his cheek in sisterly fond- 
ness. He was her pet brother. She was a couple of years 
his senior, being just turned twenty-two. Gil was delighted 
with her affectionate manifestions. He loved her dearly, 
and he thought he never saw her look so beautiful. 

“ Sis, dear, I’m not feeling first class this morning. Fact 
is, I was on a kind of tear last night with some fellows, and 
I didn’t get enough sleep. Come, sit down. I’m so anx- 
ious to hear why you left ’Frisco.” 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 15 

They now sat by the fire within easy talking distance. 
Vic began : 

11 Gil, I have been most shamefully ill-used ; and by a man, 
too, whom I still love, love passionately. Three months 
ago I engaged myself to a Mr. Mortimer St. John, a gen- 
tleman of wealth and standing in San Francisco. I met 
him at the rooms of a private theatrical society, of which 
we were both members. He became fascinated with my 
acting. I must tell you I have achieved great social celeb- 
rity as an amateur actress, for I was the star in almost every 
piece. Our histrionic triumphs were the talk of the town, 
and almost rivalled the regular performers. Well, suffice 
it to say that Mr. St. John and myself fell desperately in 
love. We agreed to keep our engagement a profound 
secret. W e intended one day taking everybody by surprise 
by going off and getting married. I thought it would be 
such fun to return to town in the character — real, not as- 
sumed, — of Mrs. Mortimer St. John, the rich broker’s wife, 
especially as I knew his family, as well as mine, would be 
delighted with the match. One day I received a letter 
from him that plunged me into grief. The substance of 
this letter was in these words: ‘Vic, the truth is this: I 
have lost everything in stocks — mining stocks. I am ruined- 
I love you too well to make you a life-partner in my 
poverty and misfortune. Release me and let us part as 
friends.’ ” 

“ There was more, much more,” she resumed, after a mo- 
ment’s pause, during which she had slipped her gloved hand 
into the pocket of her sealskin sacque and drew forth a cam- 
bric pocket-handkerchief with which she dried her tearful 


16 


VIC. 


eyes, while Gil looked at her with deep sympathy and rapt 
attention. 

“ Gil, I was stung to the quick and overwhelmed with 
sudden misery. I loved him, and love him yet, with pas- 
sionate devotion. I answered him, saying all was not yet 
lost ; that we had youth and hope ; that I would wait until 
he had rebuilt his shattered fortunes. But before I posted 
this letter to him, I learned by chance that he had gone 
East. A mutual friend to whom he had indiscreetly com- 
municated his plans, informed me that St. John had scraped 
together all the money he could get, had procured the 
strongest letters of introduction, and had gone to New 
York with the intention of representing himself as a wealthy 
stock-operator, and marry a rich wife. That was the way 
he was going to retrieve his fallen fortunes. My Spanish 
blood was roused. The pangs of jealousy pierced my breast. 
I made a solemn vow to thwart his designs by every means 
in my power. I took into my confidence our rich and ec- 
centric aunt — dear, darling aunt Dolores. I confessed all 
to her. She sympathized with me, furthered all my plans. 
You know I was always her favorite. Under pretext that 
my health required a change of scene, she got father’s and 
mother’s consent to take me to New York for a trip. You 
know that aunt Dolores can do pretty much as she likes 
with father and mother; so much for being a rich aunt. 
And so here we are ! ” 

“Well, well, well ! ” escaped from Gil’s lips in astonished 
accents. “ Dear aunt Dolores here too ! ” 

“ I saw this detective agency advertised,” continued Yic 
“ and my purpose in coming here was to employ a detec- 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


17 


tive to follow up Mortimer — I don’t know yet where he’s 
to be found — and keep me advised of his doings. I little 
dreamed I should meet you at this place. How does it 
happen that you are in this office. Are you an employe ? ” 

“ Yes,” returned Gil. “ I had been idle for some time — 
couldn’t get a situation to suit me. This offered and I 
thought I’d try it.” 

They were silent for some moments, during which Vic 
seemed preoccupied in thought, as though revolving in her 
mind many devices. 

“And where’s aunt Dolores ?” asked Gil. 

“ She’s at the hotel where we are staying. She was too 
unwell after the long journey to go out to-day, so I resolved 
to sally forth alone in quest of information. But you seem 
to be all alone here ? ” 

“ I am and shall be for three hours.” 

“ Gil,” said Yic, meditating, “you may, perhaps, in your 
position, be of great service to me.” 

“And you may depend upon me, Yic.” 

A man’s step was heard outside the door in the hall. 

“Some one’s coming in here, Yic. Perhaps you had 
better go into this private office until I see who it is.” 

As he spoke he opened the door of the inner room into 
which Yic followed him. The folding shutters of the little 
window in the wall beside the door were slightly parted. 
Gil left Yic in this room, closed the door, and returned to 
the outer office. 


18 


VIC. 


II. 


THE DISGUISE. 

“Well, I guess this is ‘biz’ at last,” thought Gil, as he 
approached a tall, blonde, fine-looking gentleman in an ulster, 
who had entered the outer office, and now stood, with his hat 
in his gloved hand, near the fire. He was about thirty, of 
easy, graceful manners and noble presence. 

“ Good morning, sir. What can I do for you ? ” Gil 
inquired. 

“ Is Mr. Philpot in ? ” asked the gentleman. 

His voice was soft and penetrating. Gil’s eye caught an 
indistinct view of Yic’s face through the slightly parted 
shutters of the little window. She was looking and listen- 
ing — evidently with an intensity that was to him unaccount- 
able. 

“No, sir,” replied Gil; “but I can attend to any office 
business. Is it a bank robbery, a forgery, or an inquiry ? ” 

“ It’s an inquiry. I want to ascertain whether a certain 
person has arrived in New York. You do that ?” 

“ Certainly,” rejoined Gil, “ if you furnish us with the 
requisite information.” 

Again he saw Yic approach the little window, and look 
and listen in statuesque immobility. Had he not known 
that she was there, he would not have been able to recog- 
nize her. The opening was too small. 


THE DISGUISE. 


19 

“ What information would you require ? ” queried the 
gentleman. 

“ The person’s name and description, and where, if you 
know, he last came from.” 

“ Well, it isn’t a he; it’s a she,” returned the gentleman, 
with a little laugh. 

“ Will you please sit down ? ” The gentleman sat near 
Gil’s desk, at which Gil was now seated. The latter took 
pencil and paper, and asked : 

u What’s the lady’s name ? ” 

“ Miss Yictoria Fernandez, of San Francisco,” replied the 
gentleman. 

Gil’s jaw fell in amazement. But he had presence of 
mind enough to write the name, thus hoping his astonish- 
ment would pass unnoticed. 

The gentleman continued : 

“ I received a telegram from a friend of mine in San Fran- 
cisco saying that this lady had disappeared. Now, it’s im- 
portant for me to know whether she has come to New 
York.” 

He stopped and looked at Gil. 

“ Will you excuse me for a few moments, sir,” said Gil, 
who had come to a certain conclusion. “ I want to step 
into the next room and state your matter to a person who 
is very well posted in this particular branch of the business. 
I shall then know better how to advise you. Here is the 
paper. I won’t be gone long.” 

Handing him the newspaper, which he took and began to 
read, Gil hurried into the inner room where Yic was, closing 
the door. 


20 


VIC. 


He found her in an excited state, but forcing herself to 
be composed. 

“That’s your Mortimer St. John?” said Gil to her, in- 
terrogatively, in a low voice. 

“ Yes. Strange that he should come here to inquire about 
me ! ” She walked up and down in great agitation, ap- 
parently thinking intently. 

“ O, Gil, I should so like to know what he’s up to ? ” 

Suddenly she stopped in front of a desk that was placed 
before the little window that looked into the outer office. 
She gave the green-covered top a smart tap with her tiny 
glove-encased fingers, and exclaimed : 

“I have it, Gil,” as she examined the desk with great 
care. It was furnished with a portfolio, inkstand, and pens. 

The desk was one of those kind enclosed on all sides 
with solid wood, except in the centre, where the person 
sits. Here there is a small opening for the feet and legs. 

“ What have you got? ” asked Gil. 

Without paying any attention to his question, Vie asked 
him, in rapid tones, her beautiful face alive and glowing? 
and her large, black eyes gleaming and dancing with excite- 
ment : 

“Have you any false beards and wigs here, Gil ? ” 

A daring thought had entered Yic’s fertile brain. 

“ O, yes,” answered Gil ; “ we have plenty of false beards 
and wigs. Have to use them often. But why ? ” 

Here he opened a cupboard and took out a number of 
the articles named, and put them on the desk. 

“ Is Philpot an old man ? ” questioned Yic in the same 
intense manner. 


THE DISGUISE. 


21 


“ Yes,” Gil replied; “ a little old man with a gray beard.” 

“ Pick out a wig and beard as near like his as possible,” 
calmly ordered Yic, as she removed her hat. 

Gil seized from among those that were on the desk, a 
wig and a beard, and holding up one in each hand, said : 

“ They are his to a hair. But what are you going to do, 
Yic ? ” 

Yic’s quick glance caught sight of a long, dark, old- 
fashioned coat hanging from a nail on the wall. Pointing 
to it, she demanded : 

“ Is that Philpot’s coat ? ” 

“Yes,” said Gil, “this is his office coat,” taking it 
down. “ It seems to have been made in the year 1. For 
heaven’s sake, tell me what you are driving at, Yic ? ” 

“Don’t oppose me — don’t say a word, Gil. You know 
you said I could depend upon you. I vow I’ll know why 
he comes to inquire about me. Perhaps I can find out all 
his designs.” 

As she spoke, off came her sacque, which she flung into 
the cupboard with her hat. Then drawing off her gloves, 
and turning one in the other, she sent them flying into the 
same receptacle. She hastily took down her hair — -jet 
black and very abundant — which she wore in a stately 
crown, and put it up again so that it lay flat on her shapely 
head. Her nimble fingers wrought the change with mar- 
velous quickness. Then she said : 

“ Give me the coat, Gil. I’m used to this sort of thing, 
you know — that is, dressing for a part.” She put the coat 
on. It reached almost to her feet. Buttoning it up nearly 
to the throat, and allowing only her white cravat and collar 


22 


VIC. 


to be seen, she sat down at the desk, close into the opening 
already described, so that her skirts were wholly hidden. 
She slipped off her rings and ear-rings and put them into 
her pocket. 

a This desk, shut up on all sides, is just suited to my pur- 
pose, Gil,” she cried, exultantly. “ See, my dress is entirely 
concealed.” 

And as she looked down on to the sides of her chair, she 
laughed merrily a low musical laugh. Gil began to fathom 
her scheme. 

“ Give me the beard and wig.” 

Gil gave her those that he had selected, and put away 
the others. She put on the wig first and then the beard, by 
aid of a hand-glass which Gil held before her. They fitted 
to a nicety. 

“ Mortimer ! ” — she addressed the door — “ you shall tell 
me all I wish to know before you leave this place.” 

“ Here are the old man’s blue glasses,” said Gil, opening 
a drawer and taking out a pair of blue spectacles. “ Per- 
haps ” 

“Just the thing,” said Vic, eagerly seizing them. “ I was 
afraid he might recognize me by the expression of my eyes.” 
And she put them on, looked in the hand-glass, and had a 
good laugh, in which Gil joined. 

“ And here’s something to alter the voice,” said Gil, taking 
from a drawer a package of peculiarly shaped pebbles. 
“You put them in your mouth one on each side like a 
double-breasted quid of tobacco.” 

Vic took the pebbles, which were small and smooth, and 
resembled birds’ eggs; she smelt them and drew back in 
disgust. 


THE PROMISSORY NOTE. 


23 


“ Look here, Gil. Anybody ever used these things ? ” 

“ O, no. They’ve never been touched since they were 
picked up on Manhattan Beach.” 

Yic put them in her mouth as directed. 
u And now, Gil, ring up the curtain — that is, bring in Mr. 
Mortimer St. John. Tell him Mr. Philpot will see him 
personally. Of course I am your respected employer. 
Show him in.” 

Gil inspected her, and amid bursts of laughter, averred 
that she was an exact representation of the head of the 
Detective Agency. He composed his features and went 
into the office where St. John was sitting reading the news- 
paper, in unsuspecting quietude. 


III. 

THE PROMISSORY NOTE. 

Yic was a natural-born actress. Art had improved her 
talents and practice had perfected her gifts. She was finely 
educated; had a trenchant wit; a strong relish for the 
humorous ; an inexhaustible fund of animal spirits ; bounding 
and boundless health ; and a perfect and powerful physique. 
Among her greatest social successes as an amateur actress, 
those were preeminent in which the element of disguise had 
entered. In disguises and “ make up ” she was thoroughly 
at home, and enjoyed the fun immensely when her intimates 


24 


VIC. 


declared they were completely deceived and unable to rec- 
ognize her in her character parts. Hence the confidence 
with which she had assumed the role of old Philpot, the 
detective. 

“Please walk right in,” said Gil, as he and St. John ap- 
peared at the door. 

“Take a seat here,” said Vic, in an old man’s squeak, 
which effectually disguised her voice. She did not like to 
depend too much upon the pebbles. She motioned him to 
a seat beside her. 

“What a curious old fossil,” thought St. John, as he sat 
down; “ but I daresay he’s a deep one.” 

“ I always tell my clerk,” began Vic, speaking as before, 
“ to say I’m not in, until I learn what’s wanted.” 

“ That’s all right, sir,” acquiesced St. John. 

“ He has partly told me your case,” resumed Vic, with a 
well-assumed asthmatic cough interrupting her squeak. 
Turning to Gil — “ Please remain outside.” 

Gil went into the adjoining room, knowing that Vic’s 
order was intended to impress St. John’s mind with the 
conviction that he was conversing with Mr. Philpot. 

“ The case presents no difficulty whatever, provided you 
give us correct information. It is said that lawyers and 
doctors must know the truth. This applies with still greater 
force to detectives. You’ll excuse me, then, if I question 
you a little closely.” Thus Vic. “ Everything with us is 
strictly confidential, ’’ she added. 

“Of course, of course, sir,” rejoined St. John. “I’m 
quite ready to answer your questions.” 

“ This lady — is she related to you ? ” queried Vic. 


THE PROMISSORY NOTE. 


25 


“No, sir. Though we came mighty near being very 
closely connected,” laughed St. John, twisting his golden- 
hued mustache. He had removed his gloves, and now 
threw them into his hat, which was on the desk. 

“ Ah ! ” returned Yic. “ I understand. Engaged to be 
married ? ” 

“ Yes,” said St. John, with a look of surprised admiration 
on his handsome countenance, as though he thought his 
questioner was as quick as a flash. 

“And now, probably,” pursued Yic, still in the same 
treble tone of inquiry, “ you think of marrying some one 
else, and you want to know if she has come to New York 
with intent to interfere with you ? ” 

“ Exactly, sir,” answered St. John. “ You’ve hit the nail 
right on the head.” 

“ It wouldn’t be so pleasant,” said Yic, in a malicious 
squeal, “ to be served with papers — he! he! — in a breach 
of promise suit — eh ? say the day or the very evening of 
your engagement to some rich and beautiful belle, eh ? and 
perhaps, in the house, too, of your future fatber-in-law — 
he ! he ! before a room full of company, eh ? ” 

“ Why, sir,” protested St. John, “the very thought makes 
my blood run cold.” 

“Now, what I propose to do in your case,” she went on, 
“ would be something like this : decoy her to some other 
city by making her believe you are there, and so keep her 
away until you are married to number two. Money there, 
I suppose, eh ? ” 

“ Piles, stacks, heaps,” enthusiastically rejoined St. John. 
“ Your idea’s a splendid one. What will be your charge, 
Mr. Philpot?” 


26 


VIC. 

“ Well, give me your check for fifty dollars dated ten 
days ahead,” answered Vic “ If I don’t do anything for 
you, you needn’t pay it. The first thing will be to find out 
whether or no she is in New York.” 

“ Precisely,” replied St. John, as he took a blank check 
from his pocket, filled it out, and handed it to Vic. 

“ Please write your name and address on this paper,” said 
Vic, as she opened the portfolio and gave him a sheet of 
note paper. He complied, and returned her the pen and 
paper. 

“And now,” requested Vic, this young lady’s name and 
description ? ” 

She put pen to paper. 

“ Victoria Fernandez.” ^ 

She writes. 

“ That’s a Spanish name,” remarked Vic. 

“She’s of Spanish descent,” explains St. John. “Her 
ancestors were among the old Spanish settlers of California.” 

“You know they are a bloodthirsty and revengeful lot,” 
squeaked Vic, “ especially the women. Is she handsome, 
ugly, or just plain ? ” 

“Handsome!” exclaimed St. John, warmly. “ She’s per- 
fectly beautiful.” 

“Dark, bright eyes, I suppose, eh ?” queried Vic, writing. 

“Yes, indeed,” St. John said, kindling. “Grand black 
eyes, full of fire, and mischief, and passion.” 

“ Tall ? ” pursued Vic, writing. 

“ Quite tall, with superbly rounded form, somewhat 
slender, — and the grace and dignity of a queen. A perfect 
Venus — a model for a sculptor.” 


THE PROMISSORY NOTE. 


27 


St. John had grown quite enthusiastic as he proceeded 
with his glowing description. Vic felt a gush of pleasure 
as she listened to the catalogue of her personal charms. It 
must be confessed — she was vain of her beauty. She re- 
membered that St. John had seen her play Rosalind in 
“As You Like It,” whence was derived his description of 
her figure, the allusion to which caused the blood to rush 
to her face. The bushy gray beard and mustache, and 
blue glasses effectually hid her blushes. 

“ And you were engaged to the beautiful creature you 
have described ? ” remarked Yic, casually, as she paused in 
writing. “ What a pity ! — excuse the observation, sir — 
but what a pity she gave you up.” 

“ I did not say she gave me up,” excitedly replied St. 
John, bridling. “ What right ” 

“ Why, you don’t mean to say you gave her up ? ” in- 
quired Yic. 

“ Yes, I do,” answered St. John. “ I have no faith what- 
ever, notwithstanding the poets to the contrary, in love, 
pure and simple, as an all-sufficient sustenance for the phys- 
ical constitution. My circumstances undergoing a change 
whereby I was debarred from giving her a home such as I 
desired for her, and such as she merited, I broke off the 
engagement because I loved her too well to take her from 
her father’s house, where she enjoyed a reasonable degree 
of comfort and independence, and subject her to pinching 
poverty with all its painful cares and uncertainties, accus- 
tomed as she was to the instant gratification of every wish.” 

“ And now,” said Yic, after a little pause, to recover her 
self-possession ; she had listened to this speech with a rising 


28 


VIC. 


sensation in the throat. “ And now, as you can’t marry for 
love ” — she waited, fearful lest her voice would betray 
her; but with a strong effort she continued in the same 
old man’s squeak — “ you are going to marry for money. Is 
that it ? ” 

“ That’s it, sir,” was St. John’s reply. “You see, I take 
a practical view of things. As a man of the world, you will 
agree with me.” 

“But, women, you are aware, look at these things so 
differently,” observed Yic, trying to speak with judicial 
calmness. “When a woman loves, her whole heart and 
soul and mind are interpenetrated with both the object of 
her adoration and the fascinating and delicious influence of 
the idolizing sentiment. With her it is a life-long worship, 
ever growing, and becoming more and more intense, ever 
strengthening and taking deeper root, and ceasing only 
with death.” 

“ Those are exactly the ideas of this young lady.” St. John 
spoke with some surprise in his bright blue e^es. “ I own 
they have a certain exquisite charm about them to which I 
came near yielding — cold-blooded as I am. You know 
woman’s heart, sir, that’s clear.” 

“ Ah ! I have had occasion to know it,” answered Yic. 
u However, we now understand one another. I will set my 
men to work at once, both here and in San Francisco, and 
as soon as I have any definite information I will communi- 
cate with you immediately.” 

St. John rose to take his leave. In reaching for his hat, 
he looked through the partly open shutters of the little 
window opening into the outer office. He drew back with 
an exclamation of mingled surprise and alarm. 


2 HE PROMISSORY NOTE . 


29 


“ What’s the matter ? ” asked Yic, with a flutter at her 
heart, and almost thrown off her guard, for she was fearful 
St. John had seen something that discovered to him her 
identity. But his answer reassured her on that score while 
disclosing a new source of interest and excitement. 

“Do you see that old gentleman?” said St. John, point- 
ing through the window to an elderly man of striking ap- 
pearance, who just then entered the office and was in con- 
versation with Gil. 

Vic nodded affirmatively. 

“Well, that’s Doctor Portley, the father of the very 
young lady whom I want to marry.” 

Vic became intensely interested. 

“I wonder what he wants here?” pursued St. John. 
“ Can he have come to inquire about me?” 

Vic was non-plussed. What should she do ? She watched 
Gil and the new comer talking. Gil finally asked him to 
take a seat, gave him the newspaper, then sat down and 
dashed off a few lines on a sheet of paper, with which he 
came in, and handing it to her, said, “ Gentleman wants to 
see you, sir.” 

Vic read what Gil had written, which was as follows : 

“ This queer old cove wants to make some inquiry about 
Mortimer St. Jomr!!! Well, I never — What shall I 
Ido?” 

Vic wrote at the bottom of this note, these words : 

“ Detain him. Tell him Mr. Philpot will see him pre- 
sently.” And then gave it back to Gil, who read it and 
left the room. 

St. John had watched these proceedings very narrowly, 
having resumed his seat. 


30 


via 


“ You are correct in your surmise,” said Vic, now deter- 
mined upon a plan of action. “ Doctor Portley does want to 
inquire about you. Now, what can I do for you ? If you 
make it worth my while ” 

“ Do you want to make five thousand dollars, Mr. 
Philpot ?” queried St. John. 

“ Did you ever hear the question propounded, regarding 
a certain fowl addicted to ponds, as to its capability to 
swim ? ” asked Yic. “ Did you ever know a man in this 
business, or any other, who did not want to make the sum 
you name ? But how can I make it ? ” 

“ By telling him that I’m a wealthy stock-operator, and 
otherwise rich. In case the old gentleman should feel 
shaky about stocks ” 

“ They are a little risky,” quietly interposed Yic. 

“ Throw in a couple of sheep ranches in the most fertile 
parts of California, each ranche containing about twenty 
thousand acres apiece, with a hundred thousand sheep or so. 
That’s something solid.” 

“ I’ll agree to do it. But how about my pay ? ” said Yic. 

“I’ll give you my note for the amount,” was St. John’s 
reply. 

“ What is your note worth ? ” 

“ Nothing, now.” 

“When will it be worth anything, Mr. St. John ? ” 

“ After my marriage to Miss Rose Portley.” 

Yic handed him a pen dipped in ink, and a clean sheet 
of paper, saying, “ Then write as I dictate.” 

St. John took the pen and paper and wrote as follows, 
after Yic’s dictation : 


TEE PROMISSORY NOTE \ 


31 


“I, Mortimer St. John, of San Francisco, promise to 
pay to bearer for services rendered, the sum of five thou- 
sand dollars. This note to be due and payable thirty days 
after my marriage to Miss Rose Portley, of this city. New 
York, March 24, 1879.” 

Here St. John threw down the pen with an oath. 

“ I can’t sign that.” 

“You mean to pay the money, don’t you?” quietly 
asked Yic. 

“ Of course I do,” replied St. John. 

“ Then you must sign it,” was the firm response, issuing 
from that mass of gray beard, in the same piping treble, a 
trifle shriller now. “You must give me the only security 
you can — your fears of exposure. When you come with 
the money and take it up, you will then receive back the 
note, and you can then destroy it. The transaction will 
forever remain a secret between us. Both our ends will be 
attained. Y ou will marry an heiress, and I shall pocket a 
small fee for helping you in the business. All I want is 
security that I shall receive my money honestly earned. 
If you refuse ” 

“Well, what then?” said St. John, paling and beginning 
t.Q weaken. 

“Then, Mr. St. John, I shall be under the moral obliga- 
tion to tell Doctor Portley the truth about you — that you 
are a penniless adventurer. I’ve no doubt I can make as 
good a bargain with him ; he’ll pay that sum for the infor- 
mation. Don’t stand in your own light. Besides, if you 
give me this note, is it not to my interest to help along your 
marriage by every means in my po'wrer ? ” 


32 


VIC. 


“ Yes, of course it is,” replied St. John, taking up the 
pen with great reluctance. Vic inwardly marked his repug- 
nance to the deed, and put it down to his credit. She con- 
cluded that he yielded to his fears of exposure, and not to a 
desire to do a base and dishonorable act. She was equally 
resolved to make him sign the note. It was sweet to tri- 
umph over his will, while she thought she could make good 
use of the document thus wrung from him. 

“ W ell, then, sign the note and leave the rest to me, Mr. 
St. John.” 

“Here goes. I hope it will be for the best,” said St. 
John, as he affixed his sign-manual to the paper, with a 
dash and a splutter. 

Vic took the document, carefully blotted it, folded it up, 
and securely put it away in one of the capacious pockets of 
the coat she wore. 

“ And now, if we can put you somewhere in hiding, you 
shall be an ear- witness to the performance of my part of the 
bargain.” 

She struck a gong-bell that was on the desk. Gil came 
in. She beckoned to him to approach closer, and whispered 
to him what she desired to do. 

Gil looked around thoughtfully, then went to one comer 
of the room and pulled out a screen that was built in the 
wall and ran upon rollers. It was made of heavy paper on 
frames, but colored to resemble black walnut wood. Run- 
ning across from wall to wall, about two feet from the 
corner, it formed a sort of closet, amply large enough for a 
person to stand or sit concealed behind it. Outwardly it 
had the appearance of a wardrobe. 


TEE BARGAIN FULFILLED. 33 

“There, you can get behind that screen,” said Vic, “ and 
you can hear everything.” 

“ Good,” replied St. John, as he went to his hiding-place, 
and Gil, not a little bewildered at all that was going on, 
closed him in. “Don’t forget the ranches and the sheep.” 

“ Gil, show that gentleman in,” ordered Vic. 

“ That queer old party ? ” asked Gil, pointing to the outer 
office. 

Yic nodded, and raised a warning finger to him as he dis- 
appeared, his face wearing a puzzled expression. 


IV. 


THE BARGAIN FULFILLED. 

“ Will you please walk into Mr. Philpot’s private office, 
sir,” said Gil to the important looking personage who was 
impatiently awaiting an audience. 

He rose from the chair, and threw down on the desk the 
paper which he had been reading. He was a man of 
medium height, upwards of sixty, and inclined to corpu- 
lency. His face was fat and of a uniform redness — the red- 
ness that is the product of rich and abundant food diluted 
with heavy wines ; the redness that is beefy and full-blooded, 
and comes from habitual indulgence in the luxuries of the 
table. White mustaches, carefully combed, met on either 
side of his mouth mutton-chop whiskers of equal whiteness, 
brushed smoothly forward. His top head was a shiny ball, 


34 


VIC. 


the sides of which were covered with a thick growth of 
white hair that joined his silvery whiskers. He wore a pair 
of silver-rimmed eye-glasses. His apparel was black broad- 
cloth of a clerical cut. Indeed, a general air of oily saintli- 
ness pervaded, and, as it were, exuded from his personality. 

“ Ah ! at last,” he said in reply to Gil’s invitation. His 
voice was a fine, full baritone, with the round, strong, chest 
tones well developed. He took his glasses from his nose, 
and holding them between his thumb and forefinger, pointed 
inquiringly at the door of the private office. 

“ Yes, sir; in there,” Gil thus answers his mute question. 
And he marched in with a dignified tread, and the bearing 
of a man who was inwardly convinced that he was of no 
mean consequence in the economy of the universe. 

“ Excuse my rising,” said Yic. “ Whom have I the honor 
of addressing?” 

“ Allow me, sir, to introduce myself,” he replied. “ Mr. 
Philpot,” waving his hand towards Yic, “ Doctor Philander 
Potter Portley” — placing his hand on his chest. “ Doctor 
Philander Potter Portley ” — bowing and tapping himself 
lightly on the shoulder, “Mr. Philpot” — again waving his 
hand towards Yic, who could scarcely repress a smile. She 
bowed her acknowledgments. Doctor Portley then threw 
out his chest, standing a short distance from Yic, fixed his 
eye-glasses on his nose, and addressed her as follows in the 
manner of set speech, rolling his voice rhetorically in all 
the fullness of his strong, orotund tones : 

“ Let me add, Mr. Philpot, by way of Rota Bene, that 
even thirty years ago in the purer and better days of the 
Republic, sir, I was not an unimportant personage. This is 


THE BARGAIN FULFILLED. 


35 


but the truth — the solemn truth of history. For Doctor 
Philander Potter Portley’s Preservative Pills, Powders, 
Pellets and Potions for the unconditional reconstruction 
and immediate restoration of the lost and wasted energies, 
and the vital powers generally, began to pliy a leading part 
in the purer and better days of our national annals, and are 
to-day a recognized and necessary institution of the great 
West. Nay, Portley’s Preservative Preparations are, at 
this very day and hour, the great backbone of the country 
— for is not the W est the country, sir ? — upholding and in- 
fusing vigor, force and efficacy into every branch of human 
industry. For the more power you give a man, the more 
he can do, can’t he ? It’s something, sir, to reflect that by 
your poor, weak efforts for diseased humanity — for fallen 
man, you have been the means, under providence, of stay- 
ing the great onward and triumphant march of physical de- 
generacy, Nay, not only staying its great onward and tri- 
umphant march, but turning back the dreadful tide, bearing 
numberless woes and evils in its train, and substituting in 
its stead the unconditional reconstruction and immediate 
restoration of the lost and wasted energies, and the vital 
powers generally. That’s just what Portley’s Preservative 
Pills, Powders, Pellets and Potions have done and are doing 
at this very day and hour. Therefore, I say to you, sir— 
from purely philanthropic motives — and through you to 
your sons and grandsons, to your daughters and grand- 
daughters, and their progeny ; to your nephews and nieces 
and their beloved offspring ; to your cousins, sisters and 
your aunts, and their cousins, sisters and their aunts, to the 
third and fourth generation— never, under no circumstances, 


36 


VIC. 


never, I say, be without a box of Portley’s Preservative 
Preparations. For sale, with printed directions, in all the 
drug stores and corner groceries in the United States, 
also in Canada, Great Britain, France and Germany. Price, 
twenty-five cents a box. Six boxes for a dollar. But 
enough. To business. I desire to have some inquiries made 
regarding the financial status of a gentleman lately arrived 
from San Francisco.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Yic, who had been impatiently waiting 
for him to get through his long harangue, which she saw at 
once was in the nature of an advertisement to his patent 
medicines. “I have myself only just come from San 
Francisco. I know pretty much everybody there. What’s 
his name ? ” 

“ Mortimer St. John ’’ 

“Not another word is needed, sir,” quickly interrupted 
Yic. “ I know him personally, and know him well. I can 
give you all the information you require without moving 
from this chair.” 

“Now really!” Portley replied. “Can you? Has he 
got the rocks ? The spons ? The sugar ? In a word, the 
shekels ? And how many of them ? ” 

“ He’s a very wealthy stock operator. He owns, besides, 
two or three enormous sheep ranches of about thirty or 
forty, or fifty thousand acres apiece with hundreds of thous- 
ands of sheep. O, he’s immensely rich.” Thus Yic. 

“ That’s all I want to know,” rejoined Portley, with a 
smile of satisfaction .*£ “ Send me your bill. Your informa- 
tion agrees precisely with his own account, only he was 
devilish modest and understated his wealth. Allow me to 


THE BARGAIN FULFILLED. 


37 


inform you, Mr. Philpot, that Mr. St. John has been paying 
his addresses to my daughter. I also will improve this 
occasion to likewise inform you, that Mr. Mortimer St. John 
is the future son-in-law of the patentee and proprietor of 
Portley’s Preservative Preparations.” 

St. John, in his concealment, could scarcely refrain from 
giving vent to an exclamation of delight when he heard this 
emphatic declaration. 

“ I heartily congratulate you, Doctor,” remarked Yic. 
After some unimportant conversation, the doctor took his 
departure. 

St. John was profuse in his gratitude, when Gil led him 
from his place of concealment, and he found himself again 
face to face with Yic. He vowed that he would pay the 
promissory note before it was due — in fact, the moment 
that he could lay his hands on any funds, after his marriage 
to Rose Portley. He went away in the very best of spirits, 
first admonishing Yic to keep a sharp lookout for Miss 
Yictoria Fernandez, who, he said, must on no acconnt learn 
of his approaching marriage, or, if she should hear of it, 
she must be decoyed from the city. 

A half an hour afterwards, Yic issued forth, having re- 
sumed her own apparel, her veil muffling her face, and made 
her way to her hotel, quite as much delighted with her visit 
to Philpot’s Detective Agency, as Mr. Mortimer St. John 
and Doctor Philander Potter Portley were elated with 
theirs. 










BOOK II. 


POETLEY AT HOME. 


( 39 ) 





THE NEW NEIGHBORS . 


41 


BOOK II.-PORTLEY AT HOME. 

I. 


THE HEW HEIGHBORS. 

Doctor Portley occupied a four story brown stone house 
in Forty-second street, near the Fifth Avenue. It was fur- 
nished in sumptuous style ; the parlors especially were dec- 
orated and fitted up in almost oriental magnificence. As 
you entered the parlors from the tessalated hall you looked 
towards the rear of the dwelling into th£ extension-room, 
through a vista of saloon, with arches on either side sup- 
ported by marble pillars. Frescoed ceilings and painted 
walls, on which hung large, costly oil-paintings in gilt frames, 
first attracted the eye ; pieces of marble statuary on pedes- 
tals stood at regular distances beneath the arches ; brilliant 
glass chandeliers of enormous dimensions depended from 
the ceiling ; a thick, richly-hued moquet carpet covered the 
floor ; gilt chairs, settees, sofas and arm-chairs, tufted and 
upholstered in rose-pink satin, with black velvet puffings 
and ebony frames, were gracefully disposed in their appro- 
priate places, and rose-pink satin damask curtains, with 
white lace lambrequins draped the tall French windows. 

The back parlor excelled, if possible, the front saloon in 
its furniture and fittings, though it followed the same gen- 
eral style, — rose-pink furniture in ebony and gilt, — as one 


42 


VIC 


opened into the other through large sliding-doors of solid 
French walnut. 

The rear apartment was used as a sitting-room on ordi- 
nary occasions, and for the reception of visitors, the front 
parlor being reserved for grand entertainments. The back 
parlor was lighted by three large windows, opening, like 
doors, on to a balcony. The centre window, however, was 
twice the size of either one of the other two, having, in 
addition to the double windows in the middle, narrow 
window doors on each side. One or the other of these 
narrow doors was often open at this season of the year to 
admit fresh air into this apartment, hot with fierce furnace 
heat. Like the windows in front, these were draped with 
rose-pink satin damask curtains and white lace lambrequins, 
to match the furniture. 

♦ Doctor Portley was a widower. Rose Portley, to whom 
St John was now formally engaged, was his only child. 

Rose was about seventeen ; changeable as the wind ; a 
truly “ gushing thing; ” passionately devoted one day, and 
cold and indifferent the next ; tossed on the waves of moods 
and impulses. She was flaxen-haired, blue-eyed and deli- 
cately pale; a slender, fragile figure; undersized; a hand 
as small as a doll’s, but by no means as plump ; a waist but 
a span in circumference; and a physique and personal ap- 
pearance best described by the words, petite, pleasing, 
pretty. 

Four days after the events narrated in the preceding 
chapters, Rose was sitting in the extension-room on the 
parlor-floor engaged in embroidery. She bent over her 
work, which was fixed to a standing frame. Rot very far 


THE NEW NEIGHBORS. 


43 


from her, Jenny, the housemaid, was making a pretence of 
dusting the mantel ornaments. She flourished a small 
feather duster. 

Jenny was a fresh-looking English girl of the true cock- 
ney breed. She dearly loved to gossip with Miss Rose 
about the neighbors, and Rose, to speak the truth, was 
nothing loth. 

It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and the day 
was exceptionally warm, even for the latter part of March. 

“ Jenny,” said Rose, “ open one of those side windows ” — 
the narrow window-doors already referred to in the middle 
window ; “it’s unbearably hot in this room.” 

“Yes, miss,” answered Jenny. And she put down on 
the table a vase, which she had just taken from the mantel 
to dust, and went and did as her young mistress requested. 
Then she returned, and took up the vase and lightly passed 
her feather duster over it. 

“Well, Jenny,” asked Rose, without taking her eyes 
from her embroidery-frame, and continuing to ply her needle 
as she spoke, “ have you found out yet who the people 
are that have moved in next door, into the furnished house 
that was to let ? ” 

“You know, miss, hever since I come to Hamerry-kee, 
I makes it a pint, never to be too hacquisitive about other 
folkes’ haffairs, for Mrs. Richings, that dear good Mrs. 
Richings, wot’s now in ’eaven, the lady wot took me hin 
hout of the London streets, and brought me hup and gave 
me wittels and drinks and a heddication besides, she always 
used to say, Jenny, says she, never ” 

“ O, never mind Mrs. Richings,” impatiently exclaimed 


44 


VIC. 


Rose. “ I’m sick and tired of forever hearing you quote 
that tiresome Mrs. Richings. It’s Mrs. Richings used to say 
this, and Mrs. Richings used to say that. I wish you would 
answer me when I ask you a question.” 

“ Lor, ain’t she cross ! ” thought Jenny to herself. “ She 
must a got hout of bed with the wrong foot foremost.” 
Then she said aloud : 

“ Werry good, miss ; in course I’ll hanswer your questions. 
Well, you know, miss, them new people ’ave only been 
hin about two days. But quite by haccident, miss, as I was 
pouring hout my tea, I ’eard the cook say — I didn’t harsk 
her, mind yer, I never do — I ’eard the cook say, that hour 
new neighbors next door was a vidder lady and her haurnt, 
miss. The lady’s name is Mrs. Chester, and they say she’s 
werry ’andsome — a tall, helegant figure and such heyes — 
why, they’re great, big, black, blazing diamonds. Least- 
ways, that’s what the cook says. Lor, I, myself, wouldn’t 
find hout hanythink about people in a thousand years, for I 
was taught by that dear, good soul, Miss Rich ” 

“ There, there, never mind,” interrupted Rose. 

u Hour balcony, miss,” resumed Jenny, pointing towards 
the windows with her duster which had performed no other 
service since she began talking, “ leads right hon to theirn, 
and goes right hinto their back parlor like. Ain’t it funny ? 
Leastways that’s what the cook says. Bless you, I never 
find hout these things. And cos vy ? Cos I keeps my 
mind right hon my vork. I learnt that from that ’eavenly 
’ooman — my blessed benefacturess. But I say, miss, 
wouldn’t the balcony be ’andy if you should get hacquainted 
with them folks next door? You could valk right hinto 


THE NEW NEIGHBORS. 


4 5 

one another’s back parlors, free and familiar like. And I’m 
thinking, miss, wouldn’t it save a lot of running to the bell 
hif heverybody could come hin that way.” 

And J enny giggled softly over this idea, not quite certain 
whether or no Rose would be displeased with her for giving 
it utterance. 

“Mrs. Chester, our new neighbor, hasn’t any children, 
has she ? ” carelessly inquired Rose, drawing out her needle. 

il Neither chick nor child, miss,” returned Jenny. 
“ There’s three in family ; Mrs. Chester, the haumt, a hold- 
ish lady, and the vidder’s cousin, a ’andsome, dashing young 
fellar — the very himage of the vidder ’erself — looks henough 
like ’er to be ’er hown twin brother. You might ’ave seen 
’im, miss ? ” and she paused and looked at Rose with a 
roguish smile on her bright pretty face. Rose said nothing, 
but bent closely over the frame to conceal a blush that 
mantled her cheek, for, as a matter of fact, Rose had seen 
“Mrs. Chester’s cousin,” and Jenny had caught them at 
their adjoining windows on the floor above exchanging 
civilities, and as Jenny told the cook, “the howdacious 
fellow liactually throwed a kiss — more, two or three, at 
Miss Rose.” 

Before Rose had time to make any reply to Jenny’s re- 
mark, the hall door-bell rang, and Jenny went out of the 
room to answer it, muttering : 

“ There’s that bell agin. It must be on wheels, for it’s 
going the ole blessed day and a goodish bit o’ the night, 
too.” 


46 


via 


ii. 

THE INTRUDER. 

The “ new neighbors ” who had taken the furnished 
house adjoining Doctor Portley’s residence, were, in fact, 
Vic, her aunt Dolores (who was the capitalist of the party), 
and Gil. The latter, in prowling about the vicinity of the 
Portley mansion to see what could be learnt, had noticed 
that the next door house was to let. The casual mention 
of this fact to Vie and aunt Dolores, had resulted in the 
conception of a deep-laid scheme, to which all three had 
contributed their mite. The objective point of this scheme 
was the overthrow of St. John’s matrimonial project, and 
one of the methods to that end was the hiring of the fur- 
nished house by Yic under an assumed name. Mrs. Chester 
was, therefore, Yic, and 11 Mrs. Chester’s cousin ” was Yic 
also, who had donned Gil’s ulster and hat, pasted on her 
upper lip a silky, soft mustache, and in the character of a 
strikingly handsome, dashing young swell, had begun a 
desperate flirtation with Pose Portley from one of the 
windows of her bedroom, which adjoined the sleeping apart- 
ment of the young lady to whom Mortimer St. John was 
engaged to be married. 

The remark that Jenny had made about “ Mrs. Chester’s 
cousin ” had recalled vividly to the mind of Pose Portley 
the fascinating face and graceful figure of that charming 
youth; and she inferred from his expressive actions, the 


THE INTRUDER. 


47 


evident impression that she had made upon him. Her vanity 
was flattered. In reality, she had led up the conversation 
so as to ascertain from Jenny what she knew or had heard 
with regard to “that elegant young fellow,” who still occu- 
pied her thoughts, when Jenny left the room. 

Now Vic had been all the morning on the alert to gain a 
clandestine interview with Rose, in the manly guise of “ Mrs. 
Chester’s cousin.” For the very same reason that Rose had 
requested Jenny to open one of the narrow window-doors, 
Vic had opened one of the windows in her extension-room, 
namely, — to freshen the heated atmosphere. It may be 
stated that the houses, being two of a row, were built pre- 
cisely alike. Vic stepped out upon the balcony, intent upon 
reconnoitring, and strongly bent on her purpose. Thus she 
discovered that her neighbor’s window-door was unclosed, 
and that Rose was alone in the back parlor. Nothing could 
be better suited to her design. With characteristic bold- 
ness and rapidity Vic decided. In a trice she was over on 
the Portley balcony, the only division being a low iron 
railing. There she stood at the window for a moment look- 
ing in upon Rose. 

The last named young lady, all unconscious of Vic’s scru- 
tiny, was bending over her embroidery-frame, nor did she 
notice the noiseless approach from the direction of the bal- 
cony, of a person who hard the appearance of being a tall, 
slender, dark young man of eminently handsome features 
and singularly noble bearing, whose eyes were large, black 
and flashing, whose silken mustache of raven hue shaded a 
delicately curved mouth and lips of coral, now parted in a 
smile, and disclosing two rows of pearly white teeth. At- 


48 


VIC. 


tired in a long ulster that completely hid her skirts, and 
wearing an oval felt hat, Yic bent over Rose and whispered, 
“Miss!” 

Rose was taken by surprise. She started to her feet and 
screamed. “ Oh ! ’’—then recognizing the intruder — “ How 
you frightened me ! How dare you, sir ? And — and how 
did you ? ” 

“ By the balcony, miss,” explained Yic, speaking in deep 
tones. “ One word, I beseech you. Do not go ! ” — and she 
took her gently by the hand, as Rose, still trembling, looked 
round with the evident intention of rushing from the room. 
“I have tried, Miss Portley, all means of gaining an intro- 
duction to you, but without success. I saw, by change, 
your balcony window was open. I ventured to look in. You 
were alone. That was enough. I am here, impelled by a 
passion stronger than my own will. Can you forgive me?” 

Rose had looked and listened at first with extreme 
alarm depicted in every feature, but gradually as Yic pro- 
ceeded, she grew less and less afraid. 

“ But, sir, you are a stranger to me,” she replied, “ and 
you must not talk so. Indeed you must not. Please let 
me go, sir. Please go away, sir.” 

“Never,” exclaimed Vic, with a tragic emphasis that 
made Rose give a start. u N ever, until you tell me wheth- 
er or no, you are engaged to that base, black villain — that 
fair, tall man — who calls here every evening. Rose, Portley, 
star of my life ” — here Yic’s voice and manner became sol- 
omn, gloomy, and intense — “ are you or are you not en- 
gaged to him ? ” 

“ I am,” faltered Rose. 


THE INTRUDER. 


49 


“ Then my blood is on your head,” cried Vic, but with 
forced calmness, as she drew a revolver from her ulster 
pocket and pointed it to her head. 

“ Don’t — don’t,” almost frantically exclaimed Rose, seiz- 
ing her arm and pulling it down. “ How can you be so 
rash ? ” 

Here voices were heard in the front parlor from behind 
the closed sliding doors. 

“You must go,” cried Rose. “My father’s coming. 
Please do.” 

Vic slipped the revolver into her pocket, threw her arms 
around Rose’s neck, and despite her struggles, kissed her on 
the mouth, exclaiming, “ One kiss ere I die ! ” 

Rose made efforts to be free, pleading, “ O, please don’t, 
sir!” 

Vic now rushes to the balcony window, where she pauses, 
turns, and says impressively, “ Remember, if you marry 
him, my blood is on your head. Adieu, sweet Rose, 
adieu.” And she disappeared, throwing and blowing kisses 
to Rose with both hands. 

Poor Rose was in a whirl of excitement. Her brain ' 
reeled. She ran through the hallway upstairs to her own 
room, where she locked herself in, and burst into a flood of 
tears. 


50 


VIC. 


II. 

THE WEDDIHG-DAY FIXED. 

The voices that Rose and Vic had heard, were those of 
Doctor Portley and Mortimer St. John. These two gentle- 
men had entered the front parlor, where they remained in 
conversation. 

“ St. John, the only thing that lies heavy on my con- 
science,” said Portley, in his oratorical manner, “ is my in- 
human — yes, inhuman neglect of the inhabitants of the 
Pacific slope. It is true that they can purchase my Pre- 
servative Preparations at certain points, but their facilities 
are limited. What is absolutely required is a central manu- 
factory at San Francisco to diffuse widespread throughout 
that important region of our common country, Portley s 
Preservative Pills, Powders, Pellets, and Potions.” 

“ I’d undertake to establish in San Francisco a central 
manufactory for your Preservative Preparations,” responded 
St. John. “ And to dispose of them by the millions. I’d 
flood the whole coast with circulars, press notices, and tes- 
timonials. You’ve plenty ? ” 

“ Bushels,” replied Portley. “ I’ve autograph testimonials 
as to the efficacy of my Preservative Preparations, not only 
from every eminent man, woman and child in this country ? 
but likewise from all the crowned heads of Europe, Asia, 
Africa, South America, and the Sandwich Islands. Here, 


THE WEDDING-DAY FIXED. 


51 


let me show you a curious letter that I received from the 
Emperor of China, in the year 1855.” The doctor took from 
his breast pocket a leathern wallet, from which he selected 
a carefully preserved paper, and unfolded it with infinite 
caution. “I never allow this precious document to leave 
my person. It reads thus : ” The Doctor threw out his 
chest, adjusted his silver-rimmed eye-glasses, and read as 
follows, with due emphases and rhetorical pauses, from the 
worn and yellow piece of paper which he held with both 
hands. 


“ To Doctor Philander Potter Portlet in America. 

“ The great curing Barbarian of the outside country. 

“ O good, great and wise Preservator ! 

“ Your present of sweet curing seeds (‘ that’s what he calls the 
Pills and Pellets,’ parenthetically explained Portley), and your 
fragrant curing drops (‘the Potions’), and your heavenly dust 
(‘ the Powders ’), has been brought to Hug-seu-Tsene — the mighty 
Emperor (Kwangto) of the terrible, stout Ming dynasty (by 
grace of Heaven revived after an interval of ages), Prince of 
peace (Ta-ping-Wang) of China — the Central Flowery Land. He 
directed his powerful Mandarins to give them to the sick accord- 
ing to what the interpreters read from your printed papers. 
(‘He means the directions.’) Be profoundly happy ! O, wise 
Barbarian ! O great and good Portley ! for I, even I, Yang-seu- 
Tsing, say it. Your sweet curing seeds, your fragrant drops and 
your heavenly dust, were given to the sick in his army of the 
Winged Sword, and have made them whole— yea, well and 
whole. Again I say it, O wise, and great, and good barbarian 
of the outside country, be profoundly happy while you live, for 
this that is here written, is known to the mighty Emperor of 
China, who approves your skill and permits you to send more of 


52 


VIC. 


your Preservative Preparations and curing medicines to his fierce 
armies of myriads of men. 

“ They may be given to Chiang-Lin, chief Mandarin of the 
Bed Button, at Shangai, who will repay you with Tea, or Silk, 
or Gold. 

“ The high Mandarins of China have heard of your great 
knowledge and wonderful skill, surpassing in these qualities all 
other foreigners and barbarians, even aspiring to equal the divine 
and miraculous wisdom of our own healing teachers who make 
remedies that are instant cures. We are pleased to know that 
you bow in trembling terror before our Mighty Emperor. 

“ Written by Yang-seu-Tsing, 
Minister-in-chief of the restored Imperial 
Ming dynasty, destined by the heavenly 
wisdom to rule in China . v 

[Translated at the American Consulate , Hong Kong , China, 
May 3 rd, 1855.) 

“ There ! What do you think of that ? ” triumphantly 
asked Portley, as he put away in the wallet the above re- 
markable production. 

“ Excellent ! excellent ! ” said St. John. “ I would advise 
you to have this and other similar testimonials extensively 
circulated. And now's just the time to begin on the Pacific 
coast— the rainy reason. Very sickly.” 

“Very well; all right,” replied Portley. “You and 
Rose must be married at once. I’ll make you my sole 
agent for the manufacture and sale of my Preservative 
Preparations on the Pacific coast. Your stock-jobbing 
operations, or your sheep-farming will not interfere with 
your attending to this business, eh ? n 

“Not in the least, sir,” truthfully responded St. John, 


TEE WEDDING-DAY FIXED. 


53 


whose blonde face glowed with pleasure at the near pros- 
pect of his marriage with Rose, and his consequent handling 
of some of Portley’s money, with which he hoped to enrich 
himself by using it in certain stock-jobbing schemes that he 
thought very promising. 

“ How delighted I am to have such a man as you are, St. 
John, for a son-in-law,” exclaimed Portley, grasping his 
hand. “There is only one thing that you absolutely re- 
quire, now that you are going to marry my daughter, to 
make you perfection ? ” 

“ What’s that, sir ? ” 

i£ A thorough, searching, and unconditional course of my 
Preservative Preparations,” was Portley’s reply, delivered 
in his usual forcible tones and deliberate manner. St. John 
listened in dismay. “ I’ll give you a daily dose of my Pills, 
Powders, Pellets, and Potions to begin with.” And to St. 
John’s increased alarm, the Poctor took from his pocket a 
long, flat, pasteboard box which he placed in St. John’s 
hand, who was fearful lest he might be required to swallow 
the compounds in Portley’s presence. “ Don’t be afraid of 
them, St. John. They have never been known to fail, and 
the beauty of it is, they can’t hurt you. Why, there’s a 
man here in New York, over seventy years of age, who has 
made an affidavit, and I have got it, that he has taken five 
of these doses daily for the last thirty years, and the brave 
old soul never missed a day. By a simple calculation” — 
Portley reflected a moment, ran the palm of his hand over 
his bald cranium, and then smoothed his silvery whiskers — 
“by a slight arithmetical operation, this gives fifty-four 
thousand seven hundred and fifty doses, or two hundred and 


54 


VIC. 


nineteen thousand Pills, Powders, Pellets, and Potions that 
have found their way into the stomach of this strong, hale, 
and hearty old man of seventy years of age. And the 
brave old boy keeps at it like a brick.” 

“Well, sir,” remarked St. John, who had dexterously de- 
posited the box of medicines in his coat tail pocket, and 
who now took advantage of a break in the resistless flow 
of Portley’s eloquence to press forward his own plans. 
“ The sooner we are married, the sooner I shall be able to 
perfect my arrangements to open a magnificent factory and 
depot in San Francisco for the disposal of these articles. 
I’d start for San Francisco immediately after the wedding.” 

“ Would you ? ” queried Portley, much pleased with this 
show of devotion. “ Much as I admire your energy, I ad- 
mire your self-sacrifice still more. And I see now how you 
have made your immense fortune ; you’ve got pluck, energy 
and perseverance — the nest eggs of success. Come with 
me up to my study ; we’ll agree upon details and the amount 
of money required. Then we’ll see where Rose is — she 
must make haste for the wedding.” 

As they passed into the hall and ascended the staircase to 
the doctor’s study, St. John said to himself, “ Everything 
goes on like clock-work, and pure, unadulterated cheek is 
the spring that keeps the works in motion.” 


A DESPERATE THREAT. 


55 


IV. 

A DESPERATE THREAT. 

While the doctor and St. John were conversing, Rose 
had come down stairs noiselessly and unobserved hy them — 
the parlor door was ajar, — had gone into the extension room 
to get her embroidery-frame, having quite recovered from 
the effects of her outburst of tears, and really feeling re- 
lieved thereby, she thought to resume her work in her own 
room. 

In the extension room she found a tall, willowy young 
man, whose face was very pale, whose thin side-whiskers 
were of a pale straw color, whose cravat was pale blue, and 
whose slim and nervous figure was clothed in a suit of pale 
brown cloth. He was examining the product of Rose’s deft 
fingers, as that young lady entered and approached the em- 
broidery-frame. 

This was Edmond Lee, the doctor’s secretary, and a dis- 
tant relative of his. He was an inmate of the Portley 
household, and was treated on a footing of equality, though 
the doctor held him in some contempt, because, as he con- 
vincingly exclaimed, “ Look at him ! He hasn’t got a drop 
of blood in his veins.” 

Rose seemed to be a little annoyed when she saw Edmond 
Lee. She had avoided meeting him alone since the advent 
of St. John. 


56 


vie : 


“Rose, is it all settled ? ” abruptly asked Edmond, his 
long, pale hands quivering. 

“ Yes, Ed, you must now think of me only as a friend. 
It is settled that I am to marry the California millionaire,” 
returned Rose. 

“ Curse him ! Curse him,” bursts from Edmond’s lips in 
a low, hoarse, concentrated whisper. “ So, Rose, you have 
given me up for this money-bag. But his money don’t make 
him bullet-proof.” 

“ O, Edmond, how you talk ! You make me shiver,” said 
Rose, turning away, as though intending to leave the room. 
But moved by a touch of pity, she approached him and said, 
deprecatingly, “You know, Ed, I would have married you 
if father would have consented, but we both knew how use- 
less it was to ask him. And I have told you again and 
again, I would never marry against father’s wish. You 
ought to submit to circumstances, Ed ; I do.” 

Edmond maintained a moody silence for a few moments. 
Then he spoke in the same, low, hoarse voice, indicative of 
the suppressed excitement under which he was laboring, his 
eyes fixed on the floor. 

“Rose, when I arrived in New York — a simple country 
boy — and when your father took me at once into his employ 
as his private secretary, I came to this house and have lived 
here ever since. That’s something over a year now. From 
the very hour that I saw you, I nourished a hope that one 
day you would be mine. You fed and encouraged that hope 
by looks, by words, by every little action. I was in the 
seventh heaven. A day came when we were alone in this 
room as we are now. W e confessed to each other our love, 
and you promised to be my wife.” 


A DESPERATE THREAT. 


57 


“ O, Ed,” cried Rose, in an agitated voice, “ spare me ! 
That’s all past. We’ve agreed to consider it as though it 
had never happened. And as to my engagement to this 
St. John, I can’t help myself.” 

“ Can’t help yourself ! That’s what maddens me.” Edmond 
looked at her with glittering eyes, as he spoke, his face 
flushed, his arms hanging down rigidly, and his fists clenched. 
“ "£k)u don’t marry this man of your own free will and 
choice ? ” 

“You know I don’t,” Rose replied. 

“ Then if something should happen to prevent this mar- 
riage, you’d be pleased, wouldn’t you, Rose ? ” He asked 
the question through his set teeth. 

“ More than pleased,” responded Rose. “ But what do 
you mean ? Your looks frighten me, Ed ! ” 

“You’d be more than pleased!” he muttered. “I’ll lay 
him out before sundown, if I swing for it.” Then aloud. 
“ Good-bye, Rose.” And without another word he left the 
room. 

Rose sat down at her embroidery-frame, but did not touch 
the work. 

“ Poor fellow,” she murmured, “ he’s dying for me. But 
he’ll get over it. He’s very passionate and bitter against 
St. John. Well, Mr. Mortimer St. John will make the very 
worst investment he ever made, the day he marries me. I 
just hate him, but father says I must marry him, and I 
suppose I must. I’ve got to marry some one, and probably 
he’s no worse than any one whom I could marry. But 
when I’m Mrs. St. John, I’ll spend his money like water, I’ll 
flirt with the best looking fellows, and have a gay time gen- 


58 


VIC. 

erally, to make up for the sacrifice. Now, I really wouldn’t 
mind marrying that elegant young fellow next door. What 
charming impudence, to come in here unannounced and un- 
introduced, and speak to me the way he did ! How he did 
talk! Well, he’s just dead in love with me.” 

Portley here came into the room, saying, “ Rose, I’ve been 
looking for you. You must get yourself ready without de- 
lay. I’ve just agreed with St. John to have the marriage 
take place in a week.” j 

“ O, father,” weeped Rose. ‘‘A week. So soon ?” 

“Yes, Rose, in a week,” replied Portley, decidedly. He 
never allowed the slightest opposition to his will in those 
under his control. “ Get ready, Rose. Spare no expense. 
St. John will be here early to-day. He has gone downtown 
to my banker with an order from me to put one hundred 
thousand dollars to the credit of your future husband on 
the day of his marriage to you. That’s the capital with 
which to start the manufacture and sale of my Preservative 
Preparations on the Pacific Slope.” 

As the Doctor finished speaking, Jenny appeared asfc the 
door, and made the announcement that “ a genelman wanted 
to see the Doctor.” 

u Did he give any name, Jenny ? ” Portley asked. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Jenny; “Mr. Philpitcher, I think he 
said, sir.” 

“ Philpitcher ! Philpitcher ! Oh, I see ! Philpot. Didn’t 
he say Philpot ? ” 

“Yes, sir, summat like that,” contentedly answered 
Jenny. 

“ Well, ask him in here, Jenny.” 

“ Yes, sir,” emitted Jenny, and retired. 


VIC MAKES A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. £9 



TIC MAKES A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. 

“ I wokder what Philpot wants,” thought Portley, as he 
paced up and down the spacious and elegantly appointed 
apartment. “ Yes, Rose, you are to marry the man who is 
going to place my Preservative Pills, Powders, Pellets and 
Potions into the hands, or rather into the mouths, of every 
man, woman and child and heathen Chinee on the Pacific 
Coast.” 

Jenny now threw open the door and ushered in Yic, in 
the disguise of Philpot, the detective. 

She wore the same gray wig and beard and blue glasses 
as she did on her first meeting with Portley, and likewise 
the same, long, dark frock coat, buttoned closely across the 
breast. One of Gil’s collars and a frowsy neck-tie peeped 
above the coat-collar. She had on a pair of the same gentle- 
man’s boots, and had cleverly fitted and tacked to the tops 
of the same, the leggings from the knee downwards, of an 
old pair of discarded pantaloons, likewise the property of 
her accommodating brother. By pinning up her skirts, 
which were hidden by the long, Dundreary frock coat, de- 
scending all round half way below the knee, she had the 
appearance of being a careless, slovenly attired old gentle- 
man addicted to the apparel in vogue of a quarter of a cen- 
tury ago. Her hands were covered with gray cotton gloves. 


60 


VIC. 


Under one arm she carried a well-worn gingham umbrella, 
and in her left hand an old slouched hat. Aunt Dolores and 
Gil had assisted her in her masquerading feat (they were 
indeed parties to the whole transaction), and had pronounced 
her transformation perfect. Yic’s strong histrionic bias had 
caused her to enter into the spirit of the affair with genuine 
zest, thoroughly enjoying the fun of the thing ; but beyond 
this foolery, which for itself alone she never would have un- 
dertaken to disguise herself, she had a set purpose to accom- 
plish in again impersonating old Philpot. 

Yic bowed gravely to Portley and Rose, as she advanced 
into the room. 

“ How do you do, Mr. Philpot ? ” said Portley. “ My 
daughter, Mr. Philpot.” Rose and Yic bow as they are in- 
troduced. “ To what am I indebted for the honor of this 
visit ? ” 

Portley’s tone and manner, as he asked the question, look- 
ing severely at the suppositious Philpot through his silver- 
rimmed glasses and carelessly fingering his white whiskers, 
plainly said, “ Do you know, sir, it’s blank cheeky of you to 
come to this house without first announcing your business 
through the mail and getting an invitation? ” 

“ Sir,” began Yic, in the squeaking voice so natural to 
debilitated elderly gentlemen, and which so effectually dis- 
guised her own, “ I should never have presumed to call 
upon you if I did not have something of the very greatest 
importance to communicate to you.” 

“ Ah ! Indeed ! ” queried Portley, softening. “ Shall we 
retire to my study ? ” 

“No, sir,” returned Yic. “For this discovery — I have 


VIC MAKES A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. 61 

made an important discovery — concerns both you and your 
daughter.” 

“ Really,” said Portley, becoming interested. 

11 Me ! ” echoed Rose, in mild surprise. 

“Yes, Miss Portley,” replied Vie, addressing herself to 
Rose and to her father at the same time. “ It is my un- 
pleasant mission to inform you that the person to whom you 
are engaged to be married is a penniless adventurer — a for- 
tune hunter — a confidence man.” 

Rose and Portley received this astounding piece of in- 
telligence in speechless amazement. 

Rose was the first to find her tongue, and gave vent to 
her feelings in a half-shriek, exclaiming, as she pressed the 
back of her head with her locked hands, “ Goodness ! ” 

Portley struck an attitude of statuesque surprise, and de- 
manded, “ Can this be possible ? How did you make this 
alarming discovery? Why, you yourself said that Morti- 
mer St. John was O. K. in stocks, and sheep-ranches, you 
know ? ” 

“I repeat what I said before — St. John — Mortimer St. 
John is all right,” answered Yic, mysteriously, and shaking 
a warning forefinger in token of a coming revealment of 
deep import, and soliciting the undivided attention of her 
listeners. Father and daughter drank in every word as it 
fell from her lips. 

“ Let me explain,” continued Yic, with an old man’s fre- 
quent pauses, to make certain that her circumstantial nar- 
rative, which was an entire fabrication, was wholly under- 
stood by her hearers. “Mortimer St. John is a man in 
whom I always took a deep interest, and when I learned he 


62 


VIG. 


was going to marry into your family I was really more in- 
terested in him than ever. It so happened that I met him 
in the street a day or two ago — the first time I had seen him 
since his arrival in New York. I stppped and congratulated 
him. ‘ Ah ! Mortimer, my son/ said I, ‘ so you are going 
to ally yourself to the family of the eminent and distin- 
guished Doctor Philander Potter Portley — a man whose 
fame takes its rise from the times of the better and purer 
days of the Republic ? ” 

Portley bristled with pride and pleasure, and his red face 
grew redder, hearing himself thus spoken of ; whereupon 
he made the mental observation, “ What a remarkably clear 
headed old fellow this Pliilpot is ? ” 

Vic noted well the effect of her words, and proceeded 
with her story as follows : 

“St. John looked at me puzzled — almost alarmed — when 
I congratulated him. ‘ Philpot/ he asked, ‘ are you mad ? ’ 
‘Why mad?’ I inquired. ‘Well/ he replied, ‘I would 
esteem myself one of the proudest and happiest of men, if 
I had the distinguished honor of counting among my friends 
so famous, so well-beloved a philanthropist as the celebrated 
Doctor Philander Potter Portley, but the fact is, it has 
never been my good fortune to meet that eminent citizen 
and renowned patriot, whom to know must be at once a 
privilege and a pleasure.” 

As Vic paused in her narration, the doctor threw up his 
hands, passed one over his burnished pate, and then thrust 
his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, and thus stood in 
the attitude of a man completely mystified, and yet with an 
expression on his countenance which bespoke the immense 


VIC MAKES A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. 63 


gratification he was receiving upon hearing himself praised 
in such high-sounding phrases. Bose listened in mute won- 
der, drawing nearer to her father. 

Vic continued, gathering confidence as she proceeded : 

“‘What!’ I exclaimed, ‘Mortimer St. John, can you 
look me in the face and say you do not know — personally 
know — Doctor Portley and his beautiful daughter, Rose ? * 
‘ Unfortunately for me, Philpot,’ he answered, ‘ I do not know 
either, but I should be delighted to become acquainted. 
Can’t you introduce a fellow ? ’ I looked at him in utter 
amazement, and then told him that Doctor Portley had 
called at my office to inquire about Mortimer St. John of 
San Francisco, who was paying his addresses to his only 
daughter. When I said that, he started, clutched me ner- 
vously by the hand and arm — so” — and Yic grasped Port- 
ley’s hand and arm and looked into his countenance, whose 
every lineament expressed intense interest and surprise — 
“ and gazing anxiously into my face, he asked, ‘ Philpot, can 
it be possible ? ’ ‘ What ? ’ I inquired. ‘ That somebody 

is personating me?’ he gasped. ‘ Y ery likely, Mortimer,’ 
I answered ; ‘ that’s a game that is played almost every day.’ 
He then went on to inform me that when he came on here 
from San Francisco, he made, on the cars, the acquaintance 
of a very plausible and insinuating gentleman, with whom 
he played cards, lost a pile of money and became intimate, 
communicating to him all his affairs. When they arrived 
in New York, they parted ; he saw him no more, and he soon 
found that all his letters of introduction were missing. He 
had shown the fellow the packet of letters, saying that he 
had no knowledge of the parties to whom they were ad- 


64 


VIC. 


dressed. I asked St. John to describe the man to me. I 
spotted him before he had spoken half a dozen words. 

4 Why, it’s Slippery Dick, alias Tim Slapjack,’ said I, at 
once. ‘ The most expert gambler and confidence man on 
the Pacific Coast.’ ‘Of Course, St. John,’ said I, ‘you 
have been round to the parties to whom you had letters of 
introduction and notified them of your loss ? ’ ‘ Why, no,’ 

he replied, ‘ they were all strangers to me, and I kept no 
memorandum of their names and addresses ; so I couldn’t.’ ” 

The Doctor began to perspire. He drew out his red silk 
bandanna pocket handkerchief, took off his glasses, and 
slowly mopped his face, neck, and shining skull. He looked 
like a man upon whom a great light was gradually break- 
ing. He listened to the remainder of Vic’s extraordinary 
story in the posture of one transfixed, his raised hand 
grasping the flame-colored bandanna, the other holding, 
poised in mid-air, his silver-rimmed eye-glasses. . 

“Well, Doctor, I have worked up the case, and in a very 
strange manner, I have got hold of a most rascally docu. 
ment given by this bogus St. John — a sort of promissory 
note for five thousand dollars, based upon his marriage to 
your daughter — in fact, to be paid after said marriage. I 
gave it to St. John — that is, to the real St. John.” 

“ Great heavens ! ” Portley now burst forth in the thunder- 
tones of his oratorical voice. “And this man, whom I have 
taken to my heart and home, is not — is n’t — Mortimer St. 
John, but an impostor — one Slippery Dick, alias Tim Slap- 
jack ! Great Jupiter ! A gambler and a confidence man ! 
Horrible ! ” 

Hose could only murmur as the silent tears stole down 
her cheeks, “ What an escape ! ” 


VIC MAKES A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. 


65 


“ Is all this positively certain ? ” asked Portley. “ Ain’t 
there some frightful mistake ? Pinch me, Rose ; perhaps 
I’m dreaming. O, my brain ! ” 

And he pressed his bandanna upon the polished covering 
of his “ dome of thought,” pacing the while, up and down, 
greatly excited. Rose was too absorbed to comply with 
her parent’s request to be pinched. 

“ Mistake, indeed ! ” exclaimed Vic, scornfully. “ Why, 
don’t I know St» John, and don’t I know Slippery Dick ? 
But stop, I’ll prove it to you. Haven’t you got a photo- 
graph of this man, Miss Portley ? ” 

‘‘Certainly,” replied Rose. And she tripped to the 
mantel-piece, and took therefrom a beautifully executed 
imperial photograph of Mortimer St. John, which she 
handed to Yic. The doctor and Rose approached her, and 
watched every movement she made, exhibiting intense ex- 
citement and interest as she carefully examined the portrait. 

“The very man himself,” broke out Yic. “He! he!” 
She laughed triumphantly, with an old man’s feeble cachina- 
tion. “It’s Slippery Dick, sir — Slippery Dick, by Jove!” 
And she emphatically slapped the palm of her hand with 
the photograph. “ Allow me to congratulate you and your 
daughter upon this most fortunate escape from the clutches 
of a villain.” 

Yic here seized Portley’s hand with her right and Rose’s 
with her left hand, and gave them both a hearty shake. 

u Philpot ! my dear friend, Phil-pot ! ” exclaimed Port- 
ley, his sonorous voice rolling forth in organ-tones, and 
giving Yic such a powerful handshaking that she retained a 
painfully acute remembrance of it for some time afterwards, 


66 


VIC. 

and pronouncing the name with impressive prolongation and 
effusive tearfulness. “ Phil-pot ! Heaven bless and pre- 
serve you, Phil-pot! You have earned the eternal grati- 
tude of a Portley, of Philander Potter Portley ! Think of 
that ! The man — he stands before you now — who by his 
Preservative Preparations, renowned in both hemispheres, 
has given to the best portion of the human race, vitality, 
force, and efficacy. Philpot ! my heart is too full to say 
more ! ” 

“ Then, sir, don’t attempt it,” returned Yic, dropping his 
hand, and likewise Rose’s, and raising her finger and moving 
it slowly to and fro, to attract the further attention of her 
listeners. “Row, there is a second part to this singular 
story. The real St. John, he whom I met, and who is per- 
sonated by this infamous Slippery Dick, is, strange as it may 
seem, a next door neighbor of yours. He lives with his 
cousin, Mrs. Chester, who has moved in but a few days.” 

Rose gasped with astonishment as she looked at Yic, 
with eyes saucer- wide, exclaiming, “ He’s the true St. 
John ! ” 

“ Indeed ! ” remarked Portley. “ This is news. Will 
wonders never cease ? Rose, we must make their acquaint- 
ance.” 

“Yes, father,” answered Rose meekly, with becoming 
obedience. “If you wish it. Certainly, if you want me to 
be acquainted.” 

She was in such a tumult internally, that she could 
scarcely contain herself. 

“ And so that there can be no mistake,” now said Yic, 
taking from her pocket, a paper, “ I will give you a written 


YIC MAKES A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. 67 


description of the real St. John, which I had prepared to 
enter in my books ; however, you can have it. I can easily 
write out another one. Y ou can readily see what a difference 
there is between the two men.” 

And she handed Portley a paper containing a description 
of herself, dressed as a young gentleman. 

Portley perused it carefully, and noted the points of dif- 
ference, and remarked upon the audacity of “ the fellow in 
attempting to pass himself off for a person whom he did not 
resemble in any one particular,” while Rose read it over 
his shoulder and mentally compared the description with 
“ that elegant young fellow, Mrs. Chester’s cousin,” and 
thought it did not do him justice. 

All at once Portley struck an attitude, brought the 
flfegers of his right hand down upon the palm of his left, 
with sudden vehemence, causing a sound like the report of 
a small pistol, and exclaimed : 

“ I know what I’m going to do ! ” 

“ What ? ” asked Yic, not without some alarm. 

“ By the great Jupiter ! ” rolled out Portley, striding 
towards the door, “ I'll have that scoundrel locked up be- 
fore nightfall.” 

He stopped for a moment to explain, as Yic, now terror- 
stricken, asked, “ Who ? What ? ” 

This was a possibility she had not taken into account, and 
she shook with fear at the idea that Portley might really 
have St. John arrested. 

“Who? That imposter, Slippery Dick!” returned 
Portley. “ Don’t you see, he’ll be sure to come back here. 
How, I’ll have the police right in the house — ready to nab 


68 


VIC. 

him — don’t you see, Philpot, my boy ? ” And he gave Vic a 
sounding slap on the shoulder. 

u Yes,” urged Rose. “ Hurry off, father, and get the police. 
I shall never feel safe until he’s under arrest.” 

Yic’s sudden apprehensions lasted but a few moments. 
Her indomitable will, ready wit and splendid courage came 
to her aid. 

“ You may save yourself all further trouble concerning 
his arrest,” she said, calmly and confidently. 

“ Why, he ain’t in quod already ? ” queried Portley. 

“ Ho ; but it’s provided for. We can take him whenever 
we want him He suspects nothing. He is watched. My 
men follow all his footsteps. Whenever it suits our pur- 
pose, we’ll nab him. Besides, Doctor, this is a matter that 
concerns St. John, under whose orders I am acting, more 
deeply even, than it concerns you, and you and St. John 
should act in concert in the matter of arresting him. Now, 
I’ll just step in to St. John, next door, and if he is at home, 
I’ll ask him to come in and see you about this affair.” 

This proposition seemed reasonable enough to Portley, 
who abandoned, for the present, his intention of procuring 
the police, preferring to meet and consult with the aggrieved 
gentleman, according to the suggestion made by the pre- 
sumptive Philpot. 

Yic thereupon took her leave, well-pleased with her visit, 
and feeling not a little relieved in averting the threatened 
danger of St. John’s apprehension. 


THE PROMISSORY NOTE AGAIN. 


69 


VI. 


THE PROMISSORY NOTE AGAIN. 

Portley and Pose awaited the coming of the expected 
visitor from the adjoining dwelling, in silence, each occu- 
pied with thoughts colored by emotions natural to their re- 
spective characters, ages and desires. 

The father accepted without a grain of doubt the start- 
ling narrative which the supposed Philpot had so minutely 
related, with the many probable details, ingeniously in- 
vented, aiming to carry conviction, under the circumstances, 
to a mind like Portley’s, filled with the sense of his own im- 
portance, and whose occupation and mode of dealing with 
the world predisposed him to divide mankind into two great 
classes, namely, those who defrauded, and those who were 
defrauded. 

In about twenty minutes from the time of Vic’s depar- 
ture, Jenny entered with a silver salver, on which there was 
a card with a name on it, in writing. Jenny’s countenance 
wore a very mysterious expression as she looked hard at 
Rose, while she handed the card to the doctor, saying : • 

“ A genelman, if you please, to see you, sir.” 

And then she renewed her scrutiny of Rose’s physiog- 
nomy, muttering : 

“I’d like to see ’er brass plate ven ’e henters. I vunder 
whether she’ll blush or whether she’ll turn pale. I’ll peek 
through the key ’ole.” 


70 


VIC. 


“Why, here he is,” said Portley, reading the card, 
“ Mortimer St. John, of San Francisco.” 

Rose blushed. Her heart gave a jump as she recalled 
the singular interview with the very person whose card she 
now took from her father’s hand, and read. Turning to 
Jenny, who was eyeing her attentively, she said as carelessly 
as she could, “ Ask the gentleman to walk in, Jenny.” 

“Yes, miss,” replied Jenny, who went out, saying to her- 
self : 

“So ’e’s Mr. St. John, too? Then there’s two on ’em? 
And this cove’s coming ’ere too to wisit Miss Rose. Well, 
I’ve ’eard of mystifying things, but this is the most mysti- 
fyingest of hall.” 

In a few moments Jenny returned, and ushered in a tall, 
slender, graceful young gentleman, to all appearances, whose 
face was dark and strikingly handsome, and whom Rose 
immediately recognized as “ Mrs. Chester’s cousin.” 

Vic had had recourse again to Gil’s wardrobe, and had 
selected therefrom a new suit of clothes of diagonal cloth, 
— dark in color and stylish in cut ; for Gil was particular in 
the choice of his tailor, and believed in the adage which 
affirms that one might as well be in one’s grave-clothes as 
to don garments not bearing the seal and stamp of fashion. 

Fortunately Vic and Gil were about equal in height, 
and of much the same size otherwise. Therefore, his ap- 
parel fitted her, with the aid of a little judicious padding, as 
though made for her, and aided the illusion which she 
sought to produce much better than if it had been cut out for 
her figure, inasmuch as the peculiarities of the female form 
were concealed in attire made for a masculine figure. An 


THE PROMISSORY NOTE AGAIN 


71 


eminent actress in San Francisco, who had gained celebrity 
in the impersonation of male characters, held taught Yic that 
the greatest difficulty that a woman has to overcome in 
dressing for the stage in man's attire, is to annihilate, for 
the time being, from the spectator’s mind, the knowledge 
that a woman is on the boards in man’s habiliments. This 
perfection of illusion was largely, if not wholly, due to the 
“ make up.” Not only is it necessary that the person be of 
the shape and size that will lend themselves most readily to 
the graceful and natural use of man’s apparel, and the shape 
and size best adapted to this purpose, require that a woman 
have long limbs, that is, long in proportion to the female 
trunk or body, and that she be of a slender build and above 
the medium height, but likewise that the clothes be made 
for her by a tailor who must understand that he is to make 
them as though he were working for a man of the same 
stature and build. Appropriate padding must do the rest. 
The tailor should on no account attempt to fit the clothes 
to the female figure. That is specially to be avoided, and 
in its avoidance — other things being equal — may be found 
the secret of the success achieved by artists in this line. 
The outward semblance of the male figure alone is seen, the 
contours of the female form being encased therein. Thus, 
there is nothing to remind the spectator that a woman in 
man’s attire is walking the boards. 

Yic had remembered, and had on occasion practised these 
maxims, for she never forgot whatever she heard concern- 
ing stage art, in the sense of “ make up,” and, for an ama- 
teur, she was an adept in the mysteries of stage dressing. 

The result was, that she was enabled to present herself 


72 


VIC. 

in the male character she had assumed, with absolute suc- 
cess. 

She had the semblance of a stylish, dashing, very pre- 
possessing young fellow, captivating and rather effeminate- 
looking, perhaps, in the masculine sight, but of absolutely 
ravishing and seductive beauty to the female eye. The 
delicate silken mustache, worn in her first, surreptitious visit 
to Rose, shaded her upper lip ; her mouth — a Cupid’s bow — 
was wreathed in a pleasant smile, disclosing her faultless 
white teeth. She daintily twirled a little cane in her gloved 
hands. Her head was artistically covered with a handsome 
black wig that Gil had brought for her from the office, and 
which concealed her own abundant raven locks. She had 
on an oval felt hat, as to the crown, with a slightly turned, 
narrow brim. Her shirt, shirt-collar, and white neck-tie 
were perfection, for Gil’s shirt-maker was one of the best in 
the city, and his laundress, a heaven-born washerwoman, re- 
cently landed from the Emerald Isle. 

Advancing towards Rose and the Doctor with easy grace, 
removing her hat, Vie said in her rich, deep tones, “ Doctor 
Portley, I presume ? ” 

To Rose she said nothing ; but she gazed at her with a 
smile and a look of deep meaning. 

Rose endeavored to hide her confusion by bending over 
her embroidery, at which she now sat, her face suffused 
with blushes. 

“Ah! Miss Rose’s phiz tells the tale,” muttered Jenny, 
as she retired. 

“ The same, sir, and your very obedient servant,” returned 
Portley, throwing himself into a position,, and examining 


TEE PROMISSORY NOTE AGAIN 


7 ‘> 

I kJ 

Vic through his silver-rimmed eye-glasses, with manifest 
admiration. 

“ This is the genuine Mr. Mortimer St. John ? ” he asked, 
with a smile. 

Yic bowed acquiescence, as she gave her hand into Port- 
ley’s hearty grasp. 

“ Allow me, sir, to introduce you to my daughter,” and 
Portley waved his hands towards Rose, who inclined her 
head. 

“ Pleased to know you, Doctor, and you, Miss Portley,” 
said Yic. “ I owe this pleasure to somewhat singular cir- 
cumstances.” A clear, ringing laugh. 

* “ Yes, indeed, most extraordinary circumstances,” replied 
Portley. “ Mr. Philpot, I presume, has tpld you every- 
thing?” 

“ Everything.” 

“Come, Mr. St. John,” said Portley, “take a seat and 
make yourself comfortable.” 

He got chairs and placed them near to where Rose was 
now plying her needle. They sat down. Portley opened 
the conversation in a patronizing manner, with the remark, 
in the manner of a speech : *- 

“ What a pity you were so victimized, and by such a 
plausible rascal ! Ah ! he couldn’t have played that racket 
on Portley. O, no, not any, thank you. I’ve travelled too 
much. Of course, he got into my good graces on the 
strength of your letters of introduction, which gave him 
standing and character in the eyes of those who introduced 
him to me and, who were, of course, deceived by his stolen 
credentials. But, sir, let me inform you, I had my suspi- 


74 


via, 

cions for all that. Pretty sharp nose, this, sir v — tapping the 
the side of the^ organ named, — “ been a good deal round the 
world. For, I ^Vent to that detective — Philpot — to inquire 
about Mortimer St. John, as I then thought him to be. 
Philpot’s is the best known in the city, — he advertises; — 
level head ! It seems Philpot, just back from San Francisco, 
knew you, and naturally enough he gave you the very 
highest moral character. What more could I desire for 
the husband of my child — my only child ? Money, riches, 
power ! How can they compare with moral character ? I 
learnt that St. John had moral character. That decided 
me. He should have my precious jewel — my Rose. Did 
I want to know whether he was rich in this world’s 
goods ? Why should I ? Did he not possess the infinite 
wealth — the inexhaustible gold mine of moral character ? 
Moral character ! Ah ! ” 

Portley fairly groaned at his inability to express the 
depth, breadth, and height of his sentiments. His manly 
frame quivered ; his fiery-red visage glowed redder ; his 
silvered whiskers, mustache, and side locks gleamed ; and 
his eyes flashed behind his silver-rimmed eye-glasses, while 
his grand orotund voice filled the room with metallic, 
trumpet-stirring notes. After a few moments’ mournful 
pause, Portley observed, “Blame it! never imagined the 
man was such a fraud ! ” 

“I scarcely now regret falling in with the scoundrel,” said 
Vic, with a winning smile. “ Since it has been the means 
of making me acquainted with the famous Dr. Portley and 
his beautiful and accomplished daughter.” 

Vic used the magnificent battery of her flashing, sparkling 


TIIE PROMISSORY NOTE AGAIN 


75 


eyes upon poor Rose, who blushed to the very roots of her 
hair. And then this consummate actress half rose from her 
seat, and seizing Portley’s hands in a hearty shake, which 
became emphatic with every emphatic word, she said, “ Sir, 
honored sir,” Portley was taken a little by surprise ; looked 
at her with upturned face, and involuntarily submitted to 
the handshaking. “ How much sir, how much I owe to you , 
and especially to your celebrated Preservative Preparations. 
Several times in my life they have snatched me from death’s 
door and slammed it, so to speak, in the face of the dread 
visitant. 1 ’ Here she dropped his hands. “ You may judge, 
then, with what eagerness I acted upon Mr. Philpot’s sug- 
gestion to call and see you — YOU, the beneficent preserver 
of my life, by your priceless, peerless Preservative Pills, 
Powders, Pellets and Potions.” 

Portley was evidently much affected. The words strug- 
gled to his lips and then issued forth in pathetic tones. 

“ Sir, I can only thank you,” he said, in simple, manly elo- 
quence. “Your words fall upon my ears like the soft 
strains of some old familiar melody of childhood. It is 
impossible for me to express my feelings at your beautiful 
tribute to my Preservative Preparations. Excuse my 
emotion.” Here he whipped out his red bandanna, and re- 
moving his glasses, gently mopped up his imperceptible 
tears, saying behind his handkerchief, “ Nature will have her 
way, sir — will have her way.” And he said to himself, “ So 
this is the young fellow that’s got the rocks and the ranches, 
the sheep and the mining stocks. He might take a fancy to 
Rose, after all.” 

“ Doctor,” observed Yic, determined to set at rest all fears 


76 


VIC. 


on one point, at least, “ I hope you will take no steps to 
apprehend this villain who has been passing himself off for 
me, because I have given Philpot full power to have him 
arrested. You see, when he is under arrest you can then 
prefer your charges against him. We might interfere with 
one another if we both attempted to apprehend him on 
different warrants, and without intending it, perhaps, aid 
him in escaping.” 

“Very well; if that’s your opinion, I will leave the mat- 
ter entirely in your hands. Philpot seemed to take much 
the same view.” 

“ Then you will make no arrest without first consulting 
me ? ” persisted Yic. 

“ Certainly not,” returned Portley. 

“ That’s one weight off my mind,” muttered Vic to her- 
self. Then she said aloud as a thought occurred to her, 
“ Suppose he should call here, would he walk in unan- 
nounced ? ” The bare mention of such a possibility made 
her heart sink. “ He must, on no account, see me ; it would 
put him on his guard.” 

“ N"o fear of that,” answered Portley, “for Jenny has 
strict orders to show no one into this room, without first an- 
nouncing them — not, at least, when I am here.” 

“ Ah ! very well,” rejoined Vic, much relieved. “ And 
now I will show you a precious little document that Philpot 
picked up. It illustrates the dark ways of this Slippery 
Dick or Tim Slapjack, whichever name he is known best by 
among his cut-throat intimates.” 

Vic took from her pocket a folded paper. “ But, mind, 
not a word about it to a soul, until it is produced in court.” 


THE PR0M1SS0R T NOTE AGAIN 77 

“Not a word — I promise,” solemnly protested Portley; 
“ and Portley ’s promise is as good as Portley’s Preservative 
Pills, Powders, Pellets and Potions.” 

“ Then read it,” said Vic, handing him St. John’s promis- 
sory note. 

Portley adjusted his silver-rimmed eye-glasses, and taking 
the paper, which he slowly unfolded, began to read it. 

“ It’s his own handwriting, that I know,” he remarked. 
He perused it in an audible voice, dwelling specially on the 
clause, “This note to be due and payable thirty days after 
my marriage with Miss Rose Portley of this city.” 

“ Infamous ! ” broke out Rose, who had hitherto been lis- 
tening to the conversation of the fascinating young stranger 
in enchanted silence. 

“ Why,” said Portley, “he’s been borrowing money on 
Rose, and has put her up as security. Made of her a sort of 
ante-nuptial collateral.” Then he glanced at the signature at 
the bottom of the promissory note, and reading “ ‘ Mortimer 
St. John.’ Why, that’s a forgery. You could have him in- 
dicted for forgery.” 

“Just what I intend to do,” quickly rejoined Vic, who 
instantly saw the point, and turned it to account. “ That’s 
the reason, between me, you and the post, why I want you 
to keep your hands off for the present. Remember, Miss 
Portley,” turning to Rose, “ if he comes here, treat him 
precisely as before so as to throw him off his guard.” 

“ Rose understands. Mum’s the word,” Portley cautioned 
her. 

“ Certainly,” said Rose. “ The horrid fellow.” 

“ I can’t tell you, Mr. St. John,” observed Portley, who 


78 


TIG. 


thought it was about time to touch upon another subject 
which he had been revolving in his mind, “ how delighted I 
am to know that we are such near neighbors. You reside 
with your cousin, Mrs. Chester ? ” 

“ With my cousin and my aunt,” was Vic’s response. 

“ Then I will not lose a moment in calling upon them,” 
replied Portley. And he said to himself, “ I’ll leave them 
alone. They’d make a handsome team.” 

“ My aunt I know is at home,” answered Vic. “ I’m not 
so certain about my cousin, Mrs. Chester. I know they’d 
be delighted to receive you.” 

“ Well, I will call at once upon your aunt in a friendly 
way,” said Portley. “ In the meantime my daughter will 
entertain you. Rose, my child, do the honors in my ab- 
sence.” 

Portley rose. Vic, and the blushing, fair, and fragile 
daughter stood up likewise. The fond father kissed the 
cheek of his only child with paternal solicitude, heaving a 
deep sigh. He then took Vic’s hand and shook good-bye, 
leaving the room in silence, but with profuse, courtly bows, 
which Vic returned with interest, accompanying him to the 
very door, which had no sooner closed upon him, when she 
returned to the middle of the spacious and elegantly fur- 
nished apartment where the fluttering Rose stood, her 
cheeks tingling with a bright red spot, whence spread over 
her countenance a delicate blush causing her to look really 
beautiful. 


JENNY COMPLAINS OF TEE KEY-HOLE. 79 


VII. 


JENNY COMPLAINS OF THE KEY-HOLE. 

Y ic gently took Rose by both hands, and interlocked her 
fingers with hers, holding her arms slightly raised. She 
stood thus in front of her for a moment or two in eloquent 
silence, gazing fondly into her eyes. Rose was all tender 
confusion. Yic all radiant rapture. 

“ Adorable creature ! ” began Yic, in a voice of rich music. 
“We are now alone. For this blissful moment I have 
prayed night and day.” 

“ How can you, sir ? ” simpered Rose. And she thought 
to herself, “ How sweet he is on me ! ” 

11 Come, I’ve something to tell you,” Yic continued, in 
the same fond tone and manner. “ Do you know how I be- 
came a next door neighbor of yours ? ” Rose nodded nega- 
tively. “ The very day I arrived in Hew York, I saw you 
in the street. You did not see me, peerless creature, but 
your image was photographed upon my brain ” — she disen- 
gaged her right hand and placed it upon her head — “ electro- 
typed upon my heart ” — she freed her left hand and indicated 
the region of the important physiological organ to which 
she had so pathetically alluded. “ I followed you.” Here 
her hands fell gracefully to her sides. “ You came to this 
house. I was rooted to the spot. At last, an idea struck 
me. It was plain I had fallen hopelessly, madly in love at 
first sight. I saw there was a furnished house to rent next 


80 


VIC 


door to yours. I induced my cousin and aunt to leave the 
hotel where we were staying, and come and take this house 
so I could live with them and be near to you. How can 
you wonder at my passionate devotion ? Indeed, I would 
be the strangest man that ever lived — a man, the most in- 
sensible to female loveliness, if I did not worship, if I did 
not envy the very ground on which you tread ! ” 

Yic paused in her swift and passionate eloquence, and 
thought within herself, “ I wonder if she’ll stand it any 
stronger than that. I guess I’ve obliterated every trace of 
St. John’s image from her mind, if there ever was any.” 

Rose stood perfectly still in silent raptures. As the 
thirsty, panting hart at the shady brook, her ears drank in 
Vic’s honeyed and impassioned utterances. One thought 
alone was in her mind, “ O, I do wish he’d keep talking 
right on.” 

Vic clasped Rose by the right hand, and stole one arm 
round her waist. She then said in tones of concentrated 
energy, and with vehement emphasis : 

“ Dear, dear girl — my life, my soul, my all. By every 
right, human and divine, you are mine. Are we not affini- 
ties ? We are! Are not our souls attracted to one an- 
other ? They are ! Do we not bask in the sunshine of 
love ? We do! Therefore, Rose Portley, you are mine — 
mine. Come closer, Rose ; why so shy, so cold to him who 
regards you as his soul’s idol. There is now no obstacle to 
our union. You surely know how I love you. Sweet Rose, 
dear Rose, you love me, do you not ? Speak, dearest, 
truest, brightest, best ! ” 

Vic’s expressive and beautiful countenance glowed and 


JENNY COMPLAINS OF THE KEY-HOLE. 81 

beamed with more than mortal beauty. Her eyes flashed 
from their black and brilliant depths, love-lit glances upon 
Rose, which fairly fascinated her and held her captive. Her 
head swam and sank on Yic’s shoulder as she murmured, 
“ Yes, I do love you, Mortimer ! v 

“ O, I’m overjoyed,” rapturously exclaimed Yic. “ And 
if your father consents to our union, you will be my bride — 
my own wife, will you not, angelic being ? ” 

“Yes, dear Mortimer!” again murmured Rose, as she 
thought, “ How divinely he talks ! ” 

“ One kiss ! ” pleaded Yic. 

Their lips met. 

At this moment the door slowly and cautiously opened a 
few inches, and a head was thrust in. 

It was Jenny’s. 

“ There ! ” she said to herself, as, unperceived, «he saw 
that “ helegant and howdacious young fellow, Mrs. Chester’s 
cousin,” as she reported to the cook, kissing her young mis- 
tress. “ There ! I could a-sworn it. Fine goings lion, miss. 
I’ll keep my heye on both of ’em arter this. And I’ll tell 
t’other Mr. St. J ohn what’s the clock. There’s summat the 
matter with this ere key ’ole,” and she looked at the lock as 
she gently closed the door. “ I couldn’t make hout just 
what they was hup to, cos my heye couldn’t ketch the 
hangle right, as it were. It’s hall howing to this ere nui- 
sance of a key ’ole. What’s the good of a key ’ole wot 
you carnt look through ? This is some new hinvention or 
other, and like hall them sort of contraptions, tramples upon 
the rights of the working people.” 

She remained outside for a while and made the above 


82 


vie: 


philosophical reflections with her eye glued to the unaccom- 
modating key hole. 

All unconscious of this espionage, Vic and Rose continued 
their love-making. 

“ When will you ask father’s consent ? ” 

“ At once,” replied Yic, and an arch smile dimpled her 
cheek, and a merry twinkle glistened in her eyes, as she 
said to herself : 

“ That was an easy conquest. What a little fool to yield 
so quickly. Why, I made Mortimer go nearly mad before 
I gave him the least sign of hope.” 

Rose looked up artlessly and confidingly into Yic’s face, 
and said : 

“And you are really Mortimer St. John? And didn’t 
you know anything about this attempted villainy ? Isn’t 
it perfectly awful ? ” 

“ I’m really Mortimer St. John; and I didn’t know any- 
thing about this attempted villainy; and it’s perfectly 
awful.” 

Yic’s conscience smote her as she uttered these false- 
hoods ; she inwardly called them “ three able-bodied whop- 
pers ; ” but she pacified her scruples with the recollection 
of the well-worn aphorism, “ All’s fair in love and war.” 

“Only see, Rose,” remarked Yic, “how the ways of the 
wicked work the good they never intended.” 

“ Isn’t it wonderful ! ” said Rose. A short pause. “ O, 
I’m so anxious to make the acquaintance of your cousin, 
Mrs. Chester. I have not even seen her in the street, by 
chance, as yet.” 

“ Have you not, indeed ? ” asked Yic. “ I’m sure she’d be 


JENNY COMPLAINS OF THE KEY-HOLE. 


83 


delighted to know you, if only for my sake, for she knows 
how I love you. But don’t get frightened when you do see 
her?” 

“ Why?” 

“ Because of her amazing likeness to me. If it were not 
for our apparel nobody would know us apart. You’d be 
dumbfounded if you saw us together. Now, Rose, I have 
some business to attend to down-town, so I shall leave you 
for a little while, but I’ll stop in at my cousin’s, Mrs. Chester, 
and tell her to come and visit you. Good-bye, sweet Rose, 
good-bye.” 

Yic kissed her adieu. 

“ Good-bye, you dear, delightful, naughty fellow,” play- 
fully said Rose ; “ I could eat you up.” 

Yic thought, “ Before long, perhaps, she’ll be wishing she 
had.” Then she said aloud, “ Bye, bye, Rose, I’ll be off.” 
And without more ado she left the apartment, covering her 
face with her handkerchief when she got into the hall, for 
fear of meeting St. John. She gained her own residence 
unobserved, and went directly to her own room, although 
she heard the voices of her aunt and Doctor Portley in the 
parlor. 


84 


Vic : 


VIII. 

ST. JOHN DBAWS A CONCLUSION. 

When Rose was no longer under the spell of Vic’s mag- 
netic presence, she commenced to reflect upon what had oc- 
curred. In reality she felt piqued with herself for yielding 
up her affections so quickly and so unreservedly to the 
seductive solicitations of the youthful and beautiful stranger. 
Being a natural flirt, she experienced a flirt’s vexation, be- 
cause she did not make her lover sigh and pray at her feet 
in vain, while she enjoyed the adoration of her victim, whose 
hopeless cry would have been like ravishing music to her 
ears ; and when the supposed lover would have been rendered 
nearly frantic with despairing passion, she would have made 
him suddenly happy with a soft, fond, responsive “ Yes.” 
Hence, she felt disappointed. 

“ Only think of me ! ” she said to herself, half aloud. 
“ Here I am engaged to him before I have known him half 
a day. O, I’m ashamed of myself. I feel mortified. I’d 
like to quarrel with some one ; I would.” 

Before she was aware of the fact, St. John had come into 
the room and approached her. 

“ O, here’s that horrid Slippery Dick. I’ll quarrel with 
him. O, I wish father would come. And I must treat him 
the same as before. And I must be very careful what I 
say.” 

These thoughts rushed rapidly through the giddy brain 


ST. JOHN DRAWS A CONCLUSION. 


85 


of the light-headed Rose Portley as St. John came towards 
her with the self-contented tread of the man who feels that 
his affairs are progressing in a satisfactory manner. 

St. John was in the best of spirits. He had been to 
Portley’ s banker with an order to transfer to his (St. John’s) 
credit the snug sum of one hundred thousand dollars upon 
a certain date, — the day fixed upon for his marriage with 
Rose. N othing was wanted now but the consummation of 
that event, which he looked upon as a matter of certainty in 
the near future. 

“Well, Rose, my love, everything is going on finely. 
We’ll soon be married,” said St. John, assuming towards 
Rose a tender air ; “ and then you will be mistress of my 
purse as you are now mistress of my heart.” And he mut- 
tered under his breath, u I’ll give the poor thing a little 
sentiment. It’s cheap, and a little goes a great way with 
them.” 

St. John’s speech excited the risibilities of Rose, with the 
supposed facts relative to him, fresh in her mind. 

“Your purse indeed,” she exclaimed, laughing ironically. 
“ Upon my word you make me laugh. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

“ If I have said anything very comical,” said St. John, 
nettled, “ please tell me what it is.” 

“ Comical ? ” laughed Rose, who never knew when to 
stop. “ Ha ! ha ! You’re so comical, Mr. Mortimer St. 
John ” — pronouncing the name with scathing sarcasm. 
Giving vent to a loud, ironical laugh, she turned away from 
him, yet almost fearing she had gone too far. 

“Well, I must say my matrimonial prospects are inviting,” 
said St. John to himself, looking after Rose, who had gone 


86 


vie : 

to one of the windows, out of which she appeared to be 
gazing. “ Laughs in my face ! And seems to he intensely 
amused about my name. But wait, my fine lady, until you 
are Mrs. Mortimer St. John. If I don’t cure you of your 
tantrums, I shall deserve to suffer from them.” 

He became dimly conscious that a hand was mysteriously 
beckoning to him — a hand that was protruded between the 
lintel and the door, which was just sufficiently opened to 
admit the passage of that useful member of the human body. 
Then the door was opened still wider, and Jenny’s face ap- 
peared. 

a Hist ! hist ! Mr. St. John ! ” she said, in a suppressed 
whisper, looking cautiously in the direction where Rose 
stood. 

St. John walked deliberately towards Jenny, and asked 
her, “ Do you want me, Jenny ? ” 

“Yes, sir, summat for your private hear. Quick ! ” 

And Jenny beckoned him with immense energy out of 
the room. 

u What shall I do ? ” mused Rose. “ How shall I call 
father and Mortimer ? I shudder at the very sight of him, 
the base imposter ! O, I do so feel like calling him Slippery 
Dick or Tim Slapjack, just to see what he would say. I’ve 
two minds now to get Jenny to run in next door and tell 
father and Mortimer.” 

She turned irresolutely, and encountered the flushed and 
excited face of St. John, who had come in noiselessly, from 
his conference with Jenny. 

“ What’s the meaning of this outrageous conduct ? ” he 
cried, in the harsh voice of suppressed passion. “ And who 


ST. JOHN DRAWS A CONCLUSION. 


87 


is that infamous scoundrel whom you permitted to kiss you ? 
I understand he calls himself Mortimer St. John. He’s an 
imposter, and if I can come across him I’ll put a bullet 
through his worthless carcass, quick as wink.” 

Rose gasped, and throwing up her hands in helpless mis- 
ery, involuntarily exclaimed, “ Then you know all ! He’s 
no imposter. It’s you’re the imposter, and you’ve got the 
brazen impudence to call him one. 0, I’m so frightened ! ” 
And she began to cry piteously. 

“ I’m the imposter ! Have you taken leave of your 
senses, Rose ? I have a right to question you as to your 
acquaintances, especially when I hear such shameful tales. 
Who is this villain ? I will know.” 

He spoke in the loud, threatening tones of command, and 
his voice pierced Rose with terror. 

“ I’ll show her,” thought St. John, “ that I’m not a man 
to be trifled with. I’ll frighten her into confession ; I’ll let 
her know before we are married that I will not put up with 
such things.” 

Rose, deathly pale, stood before him trembling in every 
limb, and watching all his movements with intense anxiety 
and dread, inspired by the knowledge of his supposed an- 
tecedents, and the expectation of immediate mortal injury. 

“ Rose,” bawled St. John, “ if you don’t confess I’ll — I’ll ” 
— he put his hand into his pistol pocket — “ I’ll kill you in- 
stantly.” 

Seized with a paroxysm of fear, her teeth chattering, her 
face ghastly white, her eyes staring wildly, Rose fell on her 
knees before him, believing that her last hour had come. 

“ For heaven’s sake,” she screamed, “ don’t shoot. I’ll tell 


88 


VIC. 

you all — everything. I won’t keep back a thing. Only 
don’t shoot. It’s Mrs. Cousin’s Chester — no, Mrs. Chester’s 
cousin — the young widow, you know, sir, next door. Have 
mercy, have mercy on me. I’m so young. Don’t kill me — 
don’t kill me, good, nice Mr. Slippery Dick ! Don’t shoot, 
please don’t, dear, dear Mr. Slapjack ! ” 

St. John burst out laughing upon hearing himself ad- 
dressed by these singular names, in shrieking tones. 

“Mr. Slippery Dick! Mr. Slapjack!” he repeated. 
“Well, the poor girl has gone crazy. Rose, get up- I 
would not hurt you for the world. Compose yourself. 
She’s in no fit condition to be questioned further.” 

He assisted her to her feet and led her to a chair. She 
was half dead with fright. He poured out a glass of water 
from a pitcher that stood on the table, and gave it to her, 
and then opened the window-doors of the middle window 
to give her air, for the room was oppressively hot. 

Rose looked at him closely, hardly knowing whether he 
had shot her yet, so dazed were her faculties. 

“ What a dreadful visitation,” thought St. John, as he 
eyed her from a little distance. “This accounts for her 
laughing in my face, and her strange actions. I must humor 
her a little. It is always best with those who are deranged 
in mind.” 

Then he approached Rose and said, in a soothing tone, 
“ So, Rose, I’m Mr. Slippery Dick and Mr. Slapjack, eh ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Rose, thinking it was safer for her to 
make a clean breast of all she knew, “ I know all about it : 
the meeting on the cars, playing cards with him, stealing his 
letters, and all the rest, you know.” 


ST. JOHN DRAWS A GONGL USION. 


89 


And as she uttered that comprehensive “ you know,” 
Rose gazed timidly into his face, and then at his hands, 
seeking, with her frightened glances, the dreaded revolver. 

“ Certainly, I know,” responded St. John, humoring what 
he inferred were her delirious fancies. u So you know all 
that, do you ? ” And he said to himself, “ Her mind is 
quite gone.” 

“ It’s all true, isn’t it ? ” innocently asked Rose. 

“ Every word of it,” said St. John, emphatically. “ Every 
word of it, Rose.” 

“ She seems quieter already,” he muttered to himself. 

“He acknowledges it, and so coolly,” thought Rose. 
“ What a villain ! n 

“ I’llgo and see if I can find your father, Rose. You stay 
here and keep quiet. I’ll be back soon.” 

As he went to the door he reflected thus : “ How shock- 
ing ! I can’t marry a mad woman, that’s certain. Curse 
the luck. This frustrates all my plans. I’ll see where 
Portley is, and have the marriage postponed. Perhaps, 
Rose may get over this attack.” As he went out, he said, 
“ Rose, I’ll be back soon again.” 

Rose drew a long breath of relief when she heard the 
door close upon him. The tyranny of fear which had held 
all her faculties in its frozen grasp began to loose its hold, 
and she found relief in a flood of tears. 


90 


VIC. 


IX. 

BEHIND THE WINDOW-CURTAINS. 

As Rose dried her eyes, she was surprised to hear voices 
and laughter, and then footsteps on the balcony, in front of 
which she sat, at the open window. 

Portley, Vic and Aunt Dolores now appeared on the bal- 
cony. Yic was in lady’s attire, wearing a rich black silk, 
with a tastefully arranged overdress of white lace ; a square 
white lace cape, caught at the neck with a large diamond 
brooch to match her solitaire diamond ear-rings completed 
her apparel. In the pride of her stately beauty she looked 
a queen of fashion and a most loveable woman. 

Aunt Dolores was a dark-visaged lady of about forty, w T ith 
a humorous twinkle in her black eyes. The remains of a 
youth of lustrous beauty, such as shone to perfection in the 
person of her niece, were still visible in her pleasant, well- 
favored countenance. 

The party stepped at once into the room. 

Portley presented Yic to Rose, saying, “ My child, this is 
Mrs. Chester, our neighbor ; Miss Jackson, her aunt,” pre- 
senting Aunt Dolores. “ My daughter Rose, ladies.” 

The ladies all bowed as their names were mentioned. 
Rose went to Yic and took both her hands in hers, saying, 
“ O, Mrs. Chester, I’m enchanted to know you. Morti — that 
is, Mr. St. John — warned me not to be startled at the resem- 
blance between you and him, but I am.” 


BEHIND THE WINDOW-CURTAINS. 91 

“Yes,” said Portley, “I was perfectly thunderstruck by 
the likeness — it’s wonderful.” 

“ Well, I’m so glad you’ve come in so friendly and neigh- 
borly, and just now, too,” said Rose. 

“ My niece suggested taking you by surprise and coming 
in by the balcony, thinking you surely had the window open 
this unseasonably warm day,” observed Aunt Dolores. 
“ Rather familiar, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ Not at all,” returned Rose; “ I’m real glad.” 

“ I thought I would not stand upon ceremony,” here in- 
terposed Yic, u especially with one whom dear Mortimer 
esteems so highly. I have confided his secret to your father. 
He knows all that has taken place.” 

“ Does he indeed ? ” said Rose, blushing. Again she looked 
curiously at Yic and noted the resemblance between the 
supposed cousins. “Even to the voice,” she said to herself 

“Yes, Rose,” said Portley, in his deep chest notes, 
“Mrs. Chester has communicated the glad tidings to me ; 
and it is just like a romance. Yes, I have learnt about her 
manly and handsome cousin’s infatuation, and I’m delighted 
with the news. Come, ladies, be seated.” 

He brought chairs and they all sat down. Rose then 
said, “ O father, I’ve so much to {ell you, and since Mrs. 
Chester has told you what has taken place between me and 
her cousin, I think I should not delay telling you. What do 
you think ? He’s been here and knows all.” 

“ Who ? ” chorused Portley, Yic, and Aunt Dolores. 

“ Why, that desperado, Slippery Dick,” answered Rose. 

“He knows all?” echoed Yic, in dismay. 

“What?” demanded Portley, excited. “Do you mean 


92 


VIC. 

that he knows that the true St. J ohn has been here, and that 
we have found out that he is a fraud ? ’ 

“ Yes, that’s just it,” replies Rose, trembling with excite- 
ment, while Yic turns deathly pale and exchanges significant 
glances with her aunt. u And would you believe it, Mrs. 
Chester,” addressing Yic, who is bewildered more and more 
as she listens, “ he coolly acknowledged the theft of your 
cousin’s letters, and threatened to kill me besides.” 

Yic looked at her in a helpless way. “ Is she mad or am 
I ? ” was the question that forced itself into her brain. 

“ He deliberately took out a revolver,” continued Rose, 
whose fears had caused her to see things that existed only 
in her morbidly active imagination, “ and pointed it at my 
head — so.” 

She doubled her fist, and sighted her thumb at Yic’s 
temple, pistol-wise. 

An expression of horror escaped from all. Yic could not 
understand what it meant ; she was, indeed, non-piussed. 

“You say he knows all?” pursued Yic, hoping by ques- 
tioning Rose to probe the mystery. “Do you mean ? ” 

“ Yes, I do,” quickly interrupted Rose. “ Without the 
least hesitation, he owned that he was Slippery Dick, alias 
Tim Slapjack.” 

Yic and Aunt Dolores looked at each other, and they 
seemed to mutually ask the questions, “ Can you understand 
it? Is this girl a lunatic? St. John could not have said 
anything of the kind.” 

Portley listened in an attitude of deep thought, and 
seemed liable to break out into a speech at any moment. 

“ He also said that he met your cousin Mortimer on the 


BEHIND THE WINDOW-CURTAINS. 


93 


cars,” continued Rose to Vic’s increased amazement. “ And 
purloined his letters of introduction, by which he was enabled 
to pass himself off as Mortimer St. John. He told all this 
to me in as quiet a tone as though he were ordering break- 
fast.” 

“ What can this mean ? ” mentally queried Vic, perplexed 
beyond expression. 

“ He told this to you, Miss Portley ? v she again questioned 
Rose. 

“ Yes, just as I tell you,” positively affirmed Rose. 

Vic and Aunt Dolores exchanged blank, hopeless glances. 

“ The villain ! ” now bursts from Portley’s stentorian 
throat. “ I wish you hadn’t said anything to him, Rose. 
Now, he’ll escape the fate he richly merits, unless Philpot 
can track him. Of course, knowing now that his imposture 
is discovered, he will never show his face again in New 
York. I wish I had seen your cousin, Mrs. Chester, before 
he went down town, so that we might have concerted mea- 
sures for the apprehension of this fellow. I wanted to 
arrest him at once, but I was dissuaded from doing so by 
Philpot, and by Mr. St. John. Everything goes wrong 
when I don’t carry out my own ideas.” 

“I really wish you had seen him, sir,” remarked Vic, 
quite at a loss, and looking appealingly at Aunt Dolores, as 
much as to say, “ Can’t you think of something to help me 
out ? ” And then she added : 

“Yes, Doctor, Mortimer is greatly incensed against this 
scamp.” 

“ I heard my nephew, Mortimer, say,” Aunt Dolores now 
addressed the Doctor, “ that he would give a thousand dol- 
lars to meet this villain face to face.” 


94 


VIC. 

Portley gazed steadily at Aunt Dolores, and made the 
mental observation, “Devilish fine woman.” 

Vic and Rose retired to a sofa on the opposite side of the 
room, and conferred in low voices, Vic endeavoring to ex- 
tract what she could from Rose as to the interview that she 
had had with St. John, in the hopes of getting some intelli- 
gence that would tend to allay her perplexity and explain 
the mystery. 

“I’ve no doubt whatever, madam, that your nephew 
would give the sum you named,” replied Portley, in answer 
to Aunt Dolores’ observation, “ to meet the scoundrel 
who has been personating him. I would give another thou- 
sand to see him safe in quod. Now, my dear madam,” 
continued Portley, rolling his voice and throwing his chest 
forward, as he always did when he began a harangue, his 
left thumb in the arm-hole of his vest ; his right hand used 
in graceful and appropriate gestures. “In my humble 
opinion, — well, it is only an opinion — a thing of this kind — 
of this infamous nature, could never have occurred — in fact, 
could never have happened, — if my excellent Preparations, 
which have a world-wide reputation, had been properly 
placed before the public on the Pacific Coast. I say, of 
course, that this is only an opinion. But it’s my opinion , 
and I believe it from the very bottom of my heart. I refer, 
madam, to my Preservative Pills, Powders, Pellets and 
Potions, sovereign remedies and never-failing specifics for 
the unconditional reconstruction and immediate restoration 
of the wasted vital energies. For, don’t you see, madam, 
the moral fibre of our being is closely related to our physi- 
cal organism, and my theory is this : If you put force and 


BEHIND THE WINDOW-CURTAINS. 


95 


vigor and tension into the material organization, you estab- 
lish a firm basis for the expansive growth and play of the 
moral faculties. That’s my theory, and that’s what my Pre- 
servative Preparations practically accomplish. But how ? 
you naturally ask. I will answer your question : By re- 
moving the obstructions of the internal organs. By stimu- 
lating them into healthy action. By renovating the foun- 
tains of life and vigor. Then health courses anew through 
the body, and gladness takes the place of gloom. This — 
this is the perfection of medicine. And this is what my 
Preservative Preparations are doing, day in and day out. 
See yon man, tottering and bent double with bilious com- 
plaint, ’^and Portley pointed with pity and disgust to an imag- 
inary wretch in the corner. “ Give him these wonderful Pre- 
parations of mine and mark the effect. See him straighten 
with strength. See his long-lost appetite return. See his 
clammy features blossom into health. Look at her who was 
once radiant with health and loveliness, now blasted and too 
early withering away ” — again he pointed with relentless fore- 
finger to a miserable specimen of a wretched female, whom 
he saw in his mind’s eye, cowering in the opposite corner. 
“ Her blood is vitiated — her health is gone. She was once 
the light of the household. She is now an aching lump of 
animated anguish. Give her these Preservative Prepara- 
tions. Now look again ” — directing the gaze of his auditor 
into the same corner. “The roses blossom on her cheeks, 
and where lately pain and sorrow sat and held high carnival, 
joy and delight burst from every rosy feature. Is it nothing 
to do these things, madam ? Nay, are they not the marvels 
of this, our age, so filled with the incredible wonders of 


96 


VIC. 


science ? And yet they are done around you every day by 
the use of Doctor Philander Potter Portley’s Preservative 
Pills, Powders, Pellets and Potions. I trust I have made 
myself understood, madam ? ” 

“ Perfectly so, sir,” replied Aunt Dolores, who had been 
wondering if he would ever cease talking. “ I’ve often used 
them myself. But I should like to ask your daughter how 
this imposter left her.” She called over to Rose, “ Miss 
Portley, what did that person say when he went away ? ” 
Rose came over to Aunt Dolores, accompanied by Yic, 
whose long cross-questioning had only served to deepen the 
mystery she was bent on solving. 

“ What did he say ? ” Thus Rose, reflectively. “ Let me 
try to remember ? O, yes, his last words as he w^nt out, 
were, ‘ I will be back soon again.’ ” 

“ He said that he would be back ? ” exclaimed Portley. 
“ The devil ! Why didn't you say so ? ” 

“What?” cried Yic, violently excited but retaining her 
self-possession. “ Back here ? ” 

“ Yes, back here ! ” answered Rose. 

“We shall have to bid you good day, Doctor,” said Yic 
pulling Aunt Dolores by the dress. 

“ You are not going so soon ? ” said Portley and Rose in a 
breath. 

“ O yes, we must,” returned the astute aunt. “We want 
to watch for Mortimer, and tell him that Slippery Dick is 
expected here. I’m going to make that thousand dollars 
which he vowed he would give if he could meet him face to 
face.” Then turning to Yic, with a roguish smile, she said, 
“ Mind you, I’ll be the first to tell him that Mr. Tim Slap- 
jack is to be found here.” 


BEHIND THE WINDOW-CURTAINS. 


97 


“ I think it’s mean, aunty,*’ replied Vic in the same strain, 
“ to take all the money yourself. You ought to go halves 
with me.” 

“Well, we’ll share the spoils,” said Aunt Dolores, with a 
good-natured smile. 

At this juncture Jenny opened the door, and made the 
momentous announcement, 

“ Mr. St. John’s waiting to see you, Doctor, and wants to 
know hif you’ll see ’im ’ere ? ” 

Yic paled and shook. She glanced at Aunt Dolores, as 
much as to say, “ What’s to he done ? ” 

“ Perhaps this is your cousin ? ” said Portley to Yic. 

“ It's more likely to be that horrid Slippery Dick,” replied 
Yic. “ 1 should faint if I saw him.” 

“So should I,” chimed in Aunt Dolores. “ You’ll excuse 
us if we take our leave by the way we came ? ” pointing to 
the balcony. 

“ Certainly, if you so* desire,” acquiesced Portley. “ I 
won’t press you to stay if you think it is Slippery Dick. 
Ask that gentleman in, Jenny.” 

The last-named person had been standing at the door, 
swallowing with avidity every word, but with an expression 
on her face of almost stupid indifference, which she would, 
doubtless, have asserted was the result of the teachings of 
the defunct lady whom she was never tired of calling her 
“ blessed benefacturess.” She now went to do her master’s 
bidding, with the muttered remark, “ Yell, this is the rum- 
mest go I hever ’eard on.” 

Yic and Aunt Dolores bid Portley and Rose a hasty 
adieu, and made their exit by the balcony. 


98 


VIC. 


As they were stepping over the low iron railing that 
separated the Portley premises from their own, a thought 
occurred to Vic, which she immediately communicated to 
Aunt Dolores. 

“Suppose we return and conceal ourselves behind the 
curtains. I’m so anxious to see what will occur to poor 
Mortimer.” 

She peeped through the window to ascertain if there was 
any chance of carrying out her idea. Portley and Rose 
were looking in the direction of the door, evidently await- 
ing the coming of the person Jenny had announced. 

“We can now step in unobserved,” urged Yic. 

“Very well, I’ll risk it if you will,” said Aunt Dolores. 

Aunt and niece were well matched in the possession of a 
daring and adventurous spirit. 

In less time than it takes to tell it, they were both back 
again in the apartment whence they had emerged, having 
silently returned without being seen by either Rose or the 
Doctor. They stood, one on each side of the large middle 
window, concealed from view by the ample folds of the 
window curtains. 


VIC'S HEROIC DEED. 


99 


X. 

VIC’S HEROIC DEED. 

Barely had Vic and Aunt Dolores slipped out of sight 
behind the curtains, when St. John came in, the door being 
thrown open by Jenny, who closed it again and retired. 

Upon seeing who had entered, Portley worked himself 
into a passion, but still retained sufficient self-control to act 
upon the prudence of shielding himself from the chance of 
a playful bullet that so desperate a character as the man 
who stood before him might direct into the vicinity of some 
vital organ of his precious anatomy. He, therefore, with 
marvellous foresight, placed the agitated Rose in front of 
him, as a living barricade, and whispered in her ear : 

“ And now, stand near to me, Rose. I’ll protect you 
with my life. At the least sign of violence on his part, 
scream, yell, howl murder at the top of your lungs. Watch 
his hands. Should he put one behind him to draw his re- 
volver, shriek at once. But always stand by your devoted 
parent.” 

Poor Rose, limp in mute terror, was held by her “ de- 
voted parent ” directly in front of his person, while he looked 
over her shoulder at St. John, who gazed in astonishment 
at the singular position of the renowned Doctor Portley and 
his daughter. 

“Why does he hold her so ?” thought St.John. “She 


100 


VIC. 


must have had another violent fit ! An insane wife ! No 
money could induce me.” 

“ Well, sir— ahem ! ahem ! ” Portley glared at him from 
behind his daughter’s shoulder, and cleared his throat 
fiercely as he peeped over. 

“Sir,” began St. John, “I have made a most distressing 
discovery.” 

“ Have you, indeed ?” sarcastically returned Portley, pro- 
tected by his human parapet. “ So have I ! ” 

“ Ah ! Then you have detected it. Just as I thought.” 

“Yes, sir; I have detected what I little suspected,” ex- 
claimed Portley, in a passion. 

u It’s very sad, very sad,” coolly observed St. John, who 
took good and bad fortune with equal indifference. “You 
know, sir, how anxious I have always been to unite myself 
to your family, but really, I’m compelled to break off the 
match — at least, for the present. You couldn’t expect me to 
marry your daughter under the circumstances ! ” 

This was too much for Portley. In his eyes, St. John 
was mocking him — adding ridicule and insult to his previous 
deception. Portley burst out into a storm of rage. His 
fear of personal harm departed. He came out from behind 
Rose and shook his fist in St. John’s face, all the blood in 
his body, seemingly, centering in his fiery visage framed fey 
his silvery whiskers. 

“ You're compelled! And 1 couldn’t expect you,” he 
fairly bellowed. “ Well, I’ve heard of cool things — but this 
is positively refrigerating ; it’s way below zero. Damn your 
cheek, sir ! You come here under false pretences, give your- 
self out as an immensely rich man, ingratiate yourself into 


VIC’S HEROIC DEED. 


101 


our good opinion, and engage yourself to my daughter ; and 
then, when we are posted as to your true character, you 
have the sublime cheek — yes, sir, cheek — to break off the 
match before I have had time to give you your walking 
ticket. Leave this house instantly. Never show your face 
here again. All your movements are known and watched. 
You are a marked man — a doomed man, Mr. Tim Slapjack! 
Ah ! You start and turn pale ! You thought, Mr. Slippery 
Dick, — ah ! you start again — you — a person such as you — 
thought to hoodwink me — a Portley. Fatal error. Learn, 
sir, learn that an inferior can never long impose on a supe- 
rior. A Portley can never be deceived by a Slapjack. Go, 
Slippery Dick, go.” 

Portley pointed to the door, the very embodiment of elo- 
quent and outraged virtue lashed into righteous wrath, 
brimming with scorn, indignation and defiance. 

St. John was utterly bewildered. He had indeed started 
and paled when Portley fiercely hurled at him those low 
and offensive names, which the doctor supposed were his 
true appellations. 

“ Slippery Dick ! Slapjack ! ” said St. John to himself. 
“ The names that Rose called me ! What can it mean ? ” 

“ Doctor Portley,” he said, “ I am quite unable to com- 
prehend, sir ” 

“Not a word — not a word,” bawled Portley. “Don’t 
attempt an explanation — don’t attempt the impossible.” 

St. John gazed at him for an instant in silence, his blonde 
face flushed, his blue eyes kindling with passion, his whole 
bearing betokening the sense of outrage which he felt. 

The doctor stood a short distance from him, nearly in the 


102 


VIC. 


centre of the room, his fiery countenance aflame, and with 
commanding finger pointing to the door leading to the hall. 
Rose cowered behind her father, white and trembling. 

Vic and Aunt Dolores watched the proceedings from their 
place of concealment with intense interest and increasing 
anxiety. 

As the last word uttered by the doctor fell from his lips, 
the wide sliding-doors that separated the parlor from the 
extension-room were rolled suddenly backhand a tall, slim 
young man, with a pale blue cravat, and a ghastly pale and 
hideously convulsed countenance, rushed in and made di- 
rectly towards St. John, levelling a revolver at his head, and 
crying, “ I’ve got you now, and I’ll shoot you down like a 
dog.” 

It was Edmond Lee. 

He had been lying in wait for St. John, and at this instant 
he had finally screwed up his courage to commit the deed 
which his frenzied brain had conceived. 

The sudden apparition of Edmond, with the levelled, 
gleaming revolver in his hand, paralyzed, with shuddering 
terror and breathless excitement, all present except one 
person. 

That person was Yic. 

With sublime courage and unexampled quickness of 
thought and deed, she came from behind the curtains, and 
dashed forward, placing herself between St. John and his 
assailant, and with a violent blow struck the weapon .from 
his hand. It went off as it fell to the floor, the sharp report 
ringing through the house. 

The doctor, Rose, Aunt Dolores, Edmond Lee, and St. 


VIC'S HEROIC DEED. 


103 


John were held spell-bound, by Vic’s sudden appearance 
and her heroic act. Not a word had been uttered by any 
one. And only as the revolver fell, did St. John cry, in an 
amazed tone, “ Vic ! ” 

The spell was broken. 

There then took place a scene of indescribable excitement 
and confusion. The doctor rushed upon Edmond to secure 
him, exclaiming in thunder-tones, “He is mad— stark, star- 
ing, raving mad. Give him a Pill, a Powder, a Pellet and 
a Potion. Help me ! Help me ! 

St. John’s first impulse was to seize his antagonist, but he 
was still under the influence of surprise caused by the unex- 
pected presence, and the magnificent self-sacrificing courage 
of the beautiful woman whom in his heart he still adored. 
The doctor’s call for aid aroused him, and he ran to assist 
him in overpowering Edmond, who was struggling with the 
doctor. The crazed young man, finding himself roughly 
grasped by his hated foe and successful rival, doubled his 
fist, and summoning his whole strength, planted such a pow- 
erful blow under St. John’s chin that he was actually lifted 
from his feet. Finding himself so foully used, St. John lost 
all control over his temper, and uttering fearful imprecations, 
pommelled his adversary right and left, following up one 
blow after the other. Rose screamed in terror. Portley, 
holding aloft a box of Preservative Preparations, bellowed, 
“ Don’t strike him. He’s mad ! Force open his mouth. 
Let me give him a Pill, a Powder, a Pellet and a 
Potion ! ” 

The servants, headed by Jenny, came pouring in, wildly 
excited. 


104 


VIC. 


Amid the confusion, Vic and Aunt Dolores, perceived by 
no one, ran out upon the balcony, and thence into their own 
house. 


BOOK m. 
IN VIC’S HOUSE, 


( 105 ) 























/ ' I I 






L l 









* 








* 










s 










ST. JOHN MAKES A DISCOVERY. 


107 


BOOK EH.— IN VIC’S HOUSE. 

I. 

ST. JOHir MAKES A DISCOVERT. 

It is ten o’clock the following morning. 

Mortimer St. John and Gil Fernandez were seated in Yic’s 
extension-room, or hack parlor, corresponding with the 
apartment with which the former was so familiar in the 
house adjoining. St. John holds his hat in one gloved hand, 
and a cane in the other. His countenance wears a look of 
care and anxiety, as though. his mind is oppressed with the 
burden of an unsolved problem. 

He gazes round the elegantly and tastefully furnished 
apartment, as he converses with Gil, and mentally compares 
the appointments and fittings with its counterpart in Doctor 
Portley’s house, and decides that this room is handsomer, 
because the furniture is simpler, and all the colors are softly 
blended. The prevailing tint is an exquisite pale blue. 

After the usual greetings, St. John opens the conversation. 

“ I received a note from Mr. Philpot,” he began, “request- 
ing me to call at this house, saying that he had important 
intelligence to communicate to me. Does he live here ? ” 

“ Well, yes,” returned Gil, slowly, as he poured a stream 
of smoke through his nostrils ; he was smoking a cigarette. 
“ That is, he has been living here since yesterday only, and 
merely for professional purposes.” 


108 


VIC. 


Then he winked knowingly at St. John, and added con- 
fidentially, “ This is a very select boarding-house. Within 
a day or two, Mr. Philpot got news about your matter, sir, 
that caused him to come and board at this house and work 
up the case himself.” 

“ But why at this house ? ” 

“ I would prefer to let Mr. Philpot tell you that himself, 
sir.” 

“ I intended to call this morning at Mr. Philpot’s office,” 
remarked St. John, “ but last evening his note was left at 
my residence, requesting me to meet him here.” 

“Yes, sir; Mr. Philpot sent me with the note,” answered 
Gil. He muttered to himself, “ What a grand piece of luck 
he didn’t go down to Philpot’s. How right I was in 
divining that that would be the first thing he would think 
of, and hence insisted upon Yic seeing him again as Philpot.” 

Here Yic came in, dressed as Philpot, presenting the 
same eccentric figure, and the same mass of gray beard and 
hair, and wearing the identical blue glasses. The long, 
dark frock coat was buttoned to the neck, the coat-tails 
descended below the knees, whereby Yic’s clever device of 
having boots with the tops encased in the leggings of a pair 
of old pants, gave her the appearance of being in pantaloons, 
as her skirts were pinned up above the coat-tails. 

“ Good morning, Mr. St. John ! ” she said in the squeak 
she had before adopted to disguise her voice. 

St. John returned her bow, and said, Good morning, 
sir ! ” 

Motioning him to a seat on the sofa, and sitting beside 
him, she said, “ I preferred to see you here rather than at 


ST. JOHN MAKES A DISCOVERY. 


109 


the office, for reasons not necessary to mention now. The 
fact is, I was by no means satisfied with the manner in which 
my men were conducting the search for that young lady, so 
I concluded to take the matter into my own hands. At 
last I have struck the right scent. I came yesterday and 
engaged hoard in this house solely in your interest.” 

“ How in my interest ? ” asked St. John, sharply. 

“ That lady, Miss Fernandez, is in New York.” 

“ I know that.” 

“You do?” in a well-feigned tone of surprise. “But, 
perhaps, you don’t know she’s in this house ? ” 

St. John started and gazed at Yic in genuine astonishment. 

“ In this house ? ” 

“ Why, that’s why I’m here.” 

“Ah! I begin to understand,” said St. John. “She’s 
boarding here, and you’ve come to board in the same house 
with her ? ” 

Vic nodded with a knowing air, and turning to Gil, she 
said, “ You had better watch at the stairs and warn us in 
case she should come in here.” Gil left the room. “ Of 
course, you don’t want to meet her until after your marriage 
to Miss Portley ! ” 

St. John made a movement of disgust, as he observed, 
“ Gone up ! The match is off.” 

“ The match off!” exclaimed Yic, again in the simulated 
tones of surprise. 

“ She’s a lunatic ! ” explained St. John. “ I wanted the 
money badly, but I don’t want a lunatic for a wife at any 
price.” 

“ What do you mean by saying she’s a lunatic ? ” queried 
Yic. 


110 


VIC. 


“ Why, she called me such peculiar names — c Slippery 
Dick’ and ‘Tim Slapjack,’ and told me some incomprehen- 
sible rigmarole about meeting somebody on the cars and 
cribbing his letters. She went off into a lot of brain-sick 
fancies. Of course, I agreed with her in everything. It’s 
always the best thing to do with the insane.” 

“ So ! so ! ” Yic said to herself. “ That puzzle is ex- 
plained.” 

“ I’ve been trying to get something through my brain,” 
said St. John, “ ever since you told me that Miss Fernandez 
lives in this house.” 

“ What’s that ? ” inquired Yic. 

“There’s a balcony here, isn’t there?” asked St. John, 
rising, and going to the middle window, built precisely the 
same as in Portley’s house. He opened one of the 'window- 
doors, looked out on the balcony, came back into the room, 
closed the door — but without locking it, — and emphatically 
exclaimed, “ That’s it ! That’s the way she came ! Sure 
pop ! ” 

Yic had preserved an aspect of perfect indifference, but 
knew very well what was passing in his mind. She now 
asked, “ That’s what ? And that’s the way who came ? 
And what’s a sure pop ? ” 

“ Why, Yic, — that’s Miss Fernandez. But you must first 
understand that Doctor Portley lives next door,” pointing. 

“ What ! You don’t mean your Doctor Portley ? ” queried 
Yic, in the high treble of surprise. 

“Yes, the same,” returned St. John. He continued: 

“Well, yesterday afternoon, I was attacked in their back 
parlor, situated just as this room is, by a jealous and in- 


/ 


ST. JOHN MAKES A DISCOVERY \ 


111 


furiated lover of Rose Portley’s, who is the doctor’s private 
secretary, Edmond Lee by name. The fellow came in, re- 
volver in hand, and drew a bead on me. I was talking with 
the doctor, who had insulted me most grossly, and had 
used language which caused me to believe that he was 
suffering from the same lunacy that affected his daughter. 
At the very moment that I was burning with rage, in rushed 
this fellow, levelling his revolver at my head. But I was 
saved by a most wonderful interposition; for Yic — great 
and glorious Yic Fernandez — as though she had dropped 
from the skies for the special purpose of protecting me from 
harm, stood between me and death, and with one vigorous 
blow, struck the deadly weapon from the hand of the would- 
be assassin. If it had not fallen to the floor, where it went 
off, she would have been killed. Noble creature ! And 
that’s the woman, sir, that I basely deserted — deserted the 
woman who yet loves me so well that she has followed me 
here to New York, and in the most unaccountable manner, 
saves me from danger at the risk of her own life.” 

His voice trembled with emotion, and his ill- suppressed 
agitation revealed a depth of feeling which filled Yic with 
the intoxicating sense of revived hope in the prospect of i. 
near renewal of his passionate love for her. By a strong 
effort she controlled all outward manifestation of her feel- 
ings, and maintained an appearance of amazed attention. 

St. John added, “ It was a mystery to me how she came 
there.” 

“ What became of this extraordinary young female ? ” 
asked Yic. 

“ I could n’t make out what became of her,” answered St. 


112 


VIC. 


John. “ A struggle ensued to secure young Lee, — that’s the 
lover, — and lock him up in his room. I helped to overpower 
him. We had a fight. He attacked me. I pitched into 
him. There was great noise and confusion. When I 
came to look around for Vic, she had disappeared. I 
watched the house the whole night without seeing her come 
out. I did not ask either Rose or the doctor how she came 
there, for we parted in anger, breaking off the match 
mutually. But now I am convinced, since I learned she 
lives in this house, that she came and went by the way of 
this balcony.” 

“ I should not be a bit surprised,” observed Vic ; a short 
pause — then, “ What do you propose to do now ? ” 

St. John was silent. His fine blonde countenance wore 
a troubled air. Finally he said, “ Instead of avoiding this 
young lady, I am anxious to meet her, if I but knew she 
would see me after what has happened. In some way or 
other, she must know of my connection with the Portlevs. 
How, Mr. Philpot, if you can bring about an interview be- 
tween Miss Fernandez and myself, I shall not only be 
extremely grateful to you, but will pay you well and try to 
make up in some way the disappointment you will experi- 
ence in not getting pay for the note I gave you.” 

a What is your object in meeting this young lady — this 
mysterious female ? ” 

St. J ohn observes that the old detective is taken with a 
troublesome fit of asthmatic coughing. 

“ I want to thank her and to ask pardon,” St. John an- 
swered, with a slight tremor in his voice, so slight as to be 
hardly noticeable, “ and beg upon my knees to be received 
by her again as a friend, and perhaps — perhaps ” 


ST. JOHN MAKES A DISCO VER Y. 1 1 3 

He did not finish the sentence. He covered his face with 
his hands and seemed absorbed in thought. 

If St. John had then been looking at the party with whom 
he was conversing, he could not have helped noticing the 
remarkable spectacle of a detective in tears — for he would 
have seen large tear-drops chase each other from under the 
blue glasses and lose themselves in the thick forest of gray 
beard that hid the cheeks of the odd-looking old gentleman 
sitting beside him. Fortunately, however, St. John was too 
much overcome with his own emotion to note these treach- 
erous manifestations, and Vie had time to hastily dry her 
eyes, in time to prevent discovery. 

“Well, sir,” she said, as St. John looked up, “if that is 
your idea, if you are really desirous of meeting Miss 
Fernandez, I think I can arrange the matter for you very 
easily. I have told you that this is a boarding-house, and 
that she is boarding here. Now, why not come and take a 
room in this very house ? It will appear as though you 
came here by accident, don’t you see ? And then — and 
then ” 

St. John wonders why the old gentleman’s voice becomes 
suddenly so thick and obstructed. 

“ I’ll do it,” he exclaims, enchanted with the plan. “ Let 
your young man secure me a room. I'll fix up matters be- 
tween us one of these days, Mr. Philpot, and try and make 
everything square.” 

“ That’s all right,” answered Yic. “ Don’t let that trouble 
you. The room will be secured at once. When do you 
propose coming ? ” 

“To-Jay, if I was certain of having a room,” replied St. 
John. 


114 


VIC. 


“ I know there are plenty of rooms vacant in this house,” 
rejoined Vic, “ You may rest satisfied in the certainty that 
if you come, you will find a welcome reception.” 

“ In that case I will go home, pack up and come here at 
once, relying upon you to fix the rest.” 

With these words St. John rose and took his leave, say- 
ing that he would return with his baggage in the course of 
a couple of hours. 


II. 

POKTLEY’S SUSPICION'S aroused. 

No sooner had St. John departed, when Vic gave way to 
the pent up joy that swelled her bosom. She tore off the wig 
and beard and dropped them behind a sofa, and took the blue 
glasses and put them in one of the pockets of the coat. She 
walked up and down briskly, clapping her hands in trans- 
ports of delight. The palms met above her head in elec- 
tric concussion, and a succession of quick sharp reports 
broke the stillness. She then threw herself on the sofa, 
weeping as though her heart would break, in which condi- 
tion Aunt Dolores and Gil found her, when they came in 
shortly after the departure of St. John. 

“Well, Vic, I declare,” exclaimed her aunt; “is this he- 
roic Vic ? ” 

“ Aunty, I was so enraptured with the way all our plans 
were working,” answered Vic, drying her eyes and gradu- 
ally recovering her self-possession, “ and especially with the 


PORTLEY' S SUSPICIONS AROUSED. 


115 


near approach of Mortimer’s renewed love, that I was over- 
come with joy and gratitude. Many times while talking 
with him, I felt like tearing off my disguise and confessing 
how I have been tricking him. He’s quite ready to return 
to his old love, aunty, and this I owe to you.” 

“ Not at all, my dear. You owe it to your ability to be 
manly and wear pants,” returned Aunt Dolores, jocosely. 
“ It’s only another illustration of the truth of my theory, 
that pants are good for women as well as men — that is, pro- 
vided a woman can wear them with pleasure and profit to 
herself, and the advancement of the human race. Look at 
the results ! They clearly show the strength, truth and solid- 
ity of my doctrines.” 

“ But what will Doctor Portley say ? ” here demanded 
Gil, with a doubtful shake of the head, “ when he finds that 
he has been fooled ? He’ll certainly be enraged, and might, 
perhaps, take the law against us. Then Yic would stand a 
good chance of being sent to the penitentiary for appearing 
in male attire. And if old Philpot should get wind that 
she has been personating him, there’s no knowing what 
would happen. I knew St. John would want to go at once 
and see Philpot ; that’s the reason why I got Yic to see him 
here as Philpot, and get up the story about this being a 
boarding-house. But as I say, if Portley has us arrested, 
and Philpot learns that Yic has been personating him, I 
shall lose my place, and Yic would be in a pretty pickle. 
But it would only be another very convincing proof of the 
strength, truth and solidity of aunty’s doctrines.” 

And Gil’s handsome face wore an expression of biting 
sarcasm as he uttered the ironical affirmation. 


116 


VIC. 


Yic listened to Gil’s prognostications with evident alarm, 
and she turned her pale and anxious face to Aunt Dolores 
in mute inquiry. That lady appeared fully equal to the task 
of combatting Gil’s discouraging view of things. 

“Pooh! Pooh!” she exclaimed. “You, Gil, are an 
alarmist and a constitutional doubter, like all your sex. 
The frightful picture you have drawn exists only in your 
imagination. As to Philpot hearing that Yic has been per- 
sonating him, there is no possible way that he can learn the 
fact, because it is known to us only ; therefore, I dismiss 
that apprehension as one that we need not trouble ourselves 
about. With regard to Doctor Portley finding out that 
Yic has been trifling with him, there, I admit that there is 
danger of getting into trouble. But, Yic, he must not find 
out that you have been acting a part to deceive him and 
Rose.” 

“How can it be prevented from coming to his knowl- 
edge ? ” asked Yic. 

Aunt Dolores reflected for a few moments, and then said, 
with a roguish twinkle in her eyes, “ With the natural 
fickleness of the sex, which, I am glad to say, you have only 
been pretending to belong to, Yic, you will have to break 
off the match with Rose Portley, that you have just made 
with her, as Mortimer St. John. By a series of ingenious 
devices and impersonations, you have succeeded in breaking 
up St. John’s connection with the Portleys, and you are now 
certain of winning him back. You will now have to cover 
up your tracks by similar means.” 

“But how is the match with Rose Portley to be broken 
off, aunty ? ” 


ST. JOHN MAKES A DISCOVERY. 


117 


“ By the simple and characteristic means which men never 
hesitate to adopt : — Make love and engage yourself, as Mor- 
timer St. John, to another woman,” was the reply. 

“ Another woman ? ” echoed Yic. “ What other w*oman ? ” 

“ Your cousin, Mrs. Chester,” laughed Aunt Dolores. 
“ When Rose and the Doctor learn that the true St. John 
is false, they’ll, of course, make a row ; but that will be the 
end of it. They will cut us — -just what we want — and then 
they will look out for the next best match for Rose. Per- 
haps fall back on Edmond Lee. Let me engineer this for 
you, Yic. I’ll get you out of this scrape.” 

“Well, what’s to be done first, aunty ? ” asked Yic, yield- 
ing herself to her aunt’s guidance, fully satisfied that she 
had matured a plan to overcome the difficulty. 

“ Go and attire yourself again as Mortimer St. John — the 
spirited, dashing, and seductively beautiful youth — and come 
here. Rose and the doctor will be certain to pay your 
cousin, Mrs. Chester, a visit this morning after the occur- 
rence of yesterday afternoon. Stop ! I hear voices now in 
the hall ; sure enough — there they are ! The girl will show 
them into this room, certain. Go through the sliding doors 
into the parlor, Yic. You can then get up stairs without 
being seen after they have come in here.” 

As she spoke, footsteps were heard in the hall, and as Yic 
pushed back one of the sliding doors and vanished into the 
parlor, Doctor Portley and his daughter entered the room 
from the door on the side leading from the hall, preceded 
by the servant girl who threw open the door. A glance 
from Yic had told Gil that he, likewise, should not be seen 
by Portley. But poor Gil was too late to make his exit by 


118 


VIC 

the same means as did Vic, without running the risk of 
being seen by Portley ; so he ensconced himself behind a 
large arm-chair near the door, with the intention of making 
his escape, as soon as the visitors’ backs were turned. 

“ Good morning, Doctor. Good morning, Miss Portley,” 
said Aunt Dolores, with a sunny smile and an air of neigh- 
borly interest. 

“ Good morning — good morning,” answered Bose and 
Portley. And then the latter bungled over his excuses for 
making such an early visit. Rose came to his rescue by 
asking, “ How’s Mrs. Chester ? ” 

How the fact was, that Portley was in a quandary. He 
was unable to settle upon any theory to explain the strange 
and exciting presence of Vic in the very nick of time to save 
St. John from Edmond Lee’s bullet. His suspicions had 
begun to be aroused that he was the victim of some deep- 
laid conspiracy— how or for what purpose he could not as 
yet determine. Being himself a man of low cunning, con- 
tracted intellect and debased moral aims, he attributed all 
the unaccountable acts of men, either to their remarkable 
ignorance, or their equally remarkable wickedness. These 
were the only phases of human nature with which he had 
any intimate acquaintance, and in his map of man, they nat- 
urally held central and wide-embracing positions, like China 
in a Chinese map of the world, to the exclusion of all other 
unexplored or unknown territory. 

His visit this morning was intended as “ a feeler,” — to 
use his own expression — in order to ascertain if anything 
could be learned upon which to base an opinion in regard to 
the undefined suspicions which had entered his mind. 


PORTLET MAKES AN ARREST. 


119 


III. 

PORTLET MAKES AK ARREST. 

“ Ah ! my poor niece, Mrs. Chester,” Aunt Dolores an- 
swered to Rose’s interrogation, as she motioned her visitors 
to seats. “ She’s not at all well. Hasn’t quite gotten over 
the excitement of yesterday afternoon. You must under- 
stand,” she continued, after pausing a moment, reflecting 
that some reason must be given for the sudden appearance 
of Yic and herself, and their equally sudden withdrawal at 
the time and place referred to, “ that we were attracted by 
the loud talking in your back parlor, and fearing that that 
Slippery Dick would commit some violent deed, we ven- 
tured to look in. At that moment, the desperate young 
man with the revolver, rushed into the room ; then it was 
that my niece, Mrs. Chester — all impulse, noble, brave and 
good, as she is — sought to protect from bodily injury, even 
that vile character, Slippery Dick. That’s her nature. 
She can’t see a fly suffer. She was too much overcome to 
stay and explain. And I felt it my duty to follow and tend 
on her.” 

She flattered herself she had smoothed over one rough 
spot, at least, though she was bound mentally to confess 
that the story was a little “ fishy.” 

Portley had listened to her with attention, and seemed 
satisfied. He was anxious to see his intended son-in-law, 
and clench matters between him and Rose. With all his 


120 


VIC. 


cunning and penetration, he never doubted but that Yic was 
really Mortimer St. John, and that Rose was the object of 
his affection. And he thought thus, simply because it coin- 
cided with his hopes and wishes. 

“Well, I shall not have to change the order that I have 
given to my banker, after all. But the marriage will have 
to be fixed upon at the date already arranged, or I will have 
to alter the date upon which the banker had orders to trans- 
fer the hundred thousand dollars to the credit of Mortimer 
St. John.” 

It was thus he reflected on the subject. 

When Aunt Dolores had concluded her explanation, 
Portley said, “ W ell, do you know I fancied something of 
the kind.” In reality, he was unable to imagine any reason 
for Vic’s appearance. “ And I came with Rose to get at the 
rights of it. And I also earnestly desire to see your 
nephew, Mr. St. John. There are some preliminaries upon 
which we must settle.” 

“ I expect him here every moment,” answered Aunt 
Dolores. 

“ Well, then, we will wait,” returned Portley, rising and 
setting himself in trim for a speech, to the no little dismay 
of Aunt Dolores, who was watching, with some anxiety for 
an opportunity for Gil to run out of the room. Gil had 
been the whole time on the alert, but had sagely concluded 
to remain where he was, rather than risk being observed in 
going out. As he could not see the doctor, he did not share 
the alarm of Aunt Dolpre3, when Portley walked deliber- 
ately to the arm-chair and back again, talking in his usual 
manner of speechifying, as he walked to and fro. 


PORTLET MAKES AN ARREST. 


121 


“In view, madam, of the intimate relationship that is 
about to spring up — arise, I may say — between our respect- 
ive families ” — nodding suggestively towards Rose — “ I have 
been puzzling my brain how best to benefit the young couple, 
and my cogitations have ultimated thus : I have determined 
to give to your nephew as soon as the hymeneal knot is tied, 
an entirely new and unworked territory for the manufac- 
ture and sale of my Preservative Preparations, besides, that 
is, in addition to, the Pacific Coast. This new territory to 
which I refer, is no other than all the Russias — think of that ! 
I give him all the Russias. As the Czar is the ruler of all 
the Russias, so he will have control over all the Russias for 
the manufacture and sale of Doctor Philander Potter Port- 
ley’s Preservative Pills, Powders, Pellets and Potions. So 
let him begin at once with the study of the Russian lan- 
guage, in order that he may get up proper advertisements 
under his personal supervision — for it cannot be too strongly 
impressed on his mind that the measure of success in this 
beneficent business depends solely upon and pis in propor- 
tion to the amount of advertising. I can put my hand on 
my heart, madam, and conscientiously say, that I never lost 
an opportunity to make known the existence of these truly 
wonderful Preservative Preparations — the most important 
medical discoveries of this or any other age ; — golden discov- 
eries more precious than rubies and diamonds. Now about 
acquiring the Russian language. It’s quite easy. It con- 
sists of sneezing and coughing in about equal parts, for in- 
stance like the simple word ‘ Ah-chee-tsi-koff,’ ” — pronouncing 
it with a combined sneeze and cough. “ You see yourself, 
it’s quite easy, especially if one is subject to the hay fever. 


122 


via 

You must know I had a shie at the language myself once, 
but I gave it up, owing to the extreme difficulty I expe- 
rienced in getting and retaining, for any length of time, a 
chronic cold in the head, so requisite for its fluent and cor- 
rect pronunciation. Well, that’s my view of the matter. 
Why, talking about advertising, madam, it was I who 
started the once celebrated “Sands of Life,” paragraph, 
which appeared in almost every newspaper in the United 
States. Yes, indeed, madam, I am the physician whose 
sands of life had nearly run out some thirty odd years ago, 
but luckily before they all skedaddled, I was enabled to 
catch and retain a few of the vital grains, upon which I have 
sustained existence ever since, with the aid of three sub- 
stantial meals a day, and quart, svff. of pure wine ; and the 
medical blessings foreshadowed in that historical paragraph 
were no other than my Preservative Preparations.” 

At the conclusion of this lengthy harangue, Portley sat 
down in the arm-chair, with a heavy thump, giving that 
piece of furniture the full benefit of his solid two hundred 
pounds avoirdupois. Now, as the arm-chair was upon 
rollers, the sudden accession of the doctor’s weight as he 
threw himself back, caused one of the rollers to move back- 
wards a little and on to Gil’s soft corn, his foot being directly 
against the roller. 

It was more than human nature could endure. 

Gil hastily shoved the arm-chair from the vicinity of his 
tender pet, and involuntarily emitted a suppressed groan, 
terminating in a squeal. 

The doctor, Aunt Dolores and Rose started to their feet. 

“ Hilloo ! What’s that ? ” cried Portley. 


PORTLET MAKES AN ARREST. 123 

“ Nothing,” said Aunt Dolores. “ I think it’s a rat in 
the wall.” 

11 Yes, I smell one,” exclaimed Portley, wheeling away 
the arm-chair and disclosing Gil. 

“ Oh, it’s a man,” screamed Rose. 

Aunt Dolores was equal to the occasion. Assuming an air 
of mingled fright and indignation, she approached Gil and 
exclaimed, “ Oh, you bold, base, bad young man ! What 
are you doing in this house ? How came you here ? I shall 
faint, Doctor, I know I shall.” 

She placed her fingers carelessly on her lips to signify to 
Gil that he was to be silent. 

The doctor, as a friend and neighbor, felt called upon to 
act in the emergency with decision and courage. He 
thought to himself, “ This affair will get into the papers, and 
it will be a first-class advertisement for Portley’s Preserva- 
tive Preparations.” 

He therefore rushed upon the wretched Gil with unex- 
ampled ferocity, and seizing him by the coat collar, dragged 
him to the middle of the room, crying in loud, metallic 
tones, “ You bold wretch ! Mid-day burglar ! You sneak- 
thief! Unscrupulous and crime-hardened youth, on whose 
brow the vestiges of sin are plainly visible ! Give an accouut 
of yourself. Disgorge the horrid tale of guilt ! Speak ! ” 

He gave poor Gil a vicious shake. Admonished, however, 
by a warning look from Aunt Dolores, he kept silent and 
submitted. 

“ Ah ! I'll wager my life, young man,” said Portley, tight- 
ening his hold upon Gil, “ I’ll wager my life that you have 
never taken even one dose of my Preservative Preparations? 


124 


VIC. 


for if you had, you would never have, believe me, young 
man,” giving him an emphatic shake, “ never have fallen 
into crime.” 

Aunt Dolores rushed to the captured culprit with a show 
of fury, exclaiming, “ Oh ! you bold, base, bad young man ! ’’ 

Taking advantage of her close proximity to him, she 
whispered in his ear, “ Don’t say a word ! Yic will get you 
off.” 

“It seems to me that I have seen him somewheres,” ob- 
served Portley, inspecting Gil’s features. 

Apparelled as the same handsome, stylish young man as 
the day before, Yic now entered the room, prepared to carry 
out her aunt’s instructions. She started back in no little 
alarm when she saw Gil in the doctor’s grasp, and would 
have fled from the apartment had not her aunt energetically 
beckoned to her, as she said, 11 Oh, here’s my nephew, 
Doctor. Let him deal with this person.” 

She tried by signs to make Yic understand the situation. 

“ This strange young man, Mortimer,” she resumed, ad- 
dressing Yic, “ has been found, thanks to the doctor, con- 
cealed here in this room. W on’t you relieve the doctor ? 
Take him and turn him out of doors, or give him in charge 
of the police.” 

Before Aunt Dolores had finished speaking, Rose had run 
with effusion to Yic, murmuring “ Dear Mortimer ! ” 

But she fell back with deep mortification in every feature, 
when she saw that Yic paid not the slightest attention to 
her. Yic’s whole mind, in fact, was absorbed in the unex- 
pected sight which had so alarmed her. 

“ O, don’t turn him out of doors,” officiously urged Portley, 


PORTLET MAKES AN ARREST. 


123 


fearful that he would miss the opportunity of figuring in a 
newspaper paragraph. 11 Give him in charge, my dear St. 
John,” speaking to Yic across his prisoner, whom he held in 
a grasp of iron. “ March him off to the nearest station. 
He’s a suspicious character — a jail-bird. I’ll go with you as 
a witness and state how I captured him. Ill make a depo- 
sition that will send him up on the island double quick. 
Never fear, madam,” soothingly to Aunt Dolores, “ we’ll 
have the rascal locked up in less than two twoes. My hat. 
Rose.” 

Rose handed Portley his hat, which was lying on the 
table. He took it with his disengaged hand, put it on, and 
gave the crown a tap, as much as to say, “ I’m ready.” 

Vic now approached Gil, having, by rapid meaning glances 
between herself and her aunt, formed a project for the release 
of Gil, whom she now roughly seized likewise by the coat 
collar, so that the miserable delinquent stood between Vic 
and the doctor, pulled first one way and then the other, gaz- 
ing at Vic, then at the doctor. 

“ I’ll manage him, Doctor,” said Vic, giving him a tre- 
mendous shake. “ I wouldn’t trouble you for the world to 
go to the police station.” 

“ Don’t mention it, my boy,” cheerily responded Portley. 
“Not the slightest trouble, I assure you. Besides, I am 
only too glad to do you a good turn — you, who are my in- 
tended son-in-law. I shall not rest easy until I see this 
infamous fellow well under lock and key, and my statement 
made to the police how I risked my life in securing the 
thieving villain. So let’s walk him off between us. We’ll 
soon meet a policeman. Come along, you, sir,” 


126 


VIC. 


And Gil received from the doctor another alarmingly 
muscular shake, as he began to drag him towards the door. 

“ Will you please listen to me for one moment,” now 
pleaded Gil, perceiving the quandary Yic and his aunt were 
in, and hoping that by engaging Portley in conversation he 
would loosen his hold, and that he would thus have a chance 
of bursting away from his captor’s grasp. 

££ No, young reprobate, no,” roared Portley, redder in the 
face than ever. “Not a word until you speak before the 
judge in court, and I have made my statement. I dare 
say you are well known to the police, pome on.” 

Here he pulled Gil towards him. 

“ Yes, come on,” exclaimed Yic, pulling him in the oppo- 
site direction. She looked at Aunt Dolores in despair. 

That acute and observant lady had been studying the 
situation, as a baffled but competent and self-poised gen- 
eral studies the varying fortunes of the battle-field, and, 
like him, when he sees, with the glance of genius, informed 
at the right moment by a flash of inspiration, how the day 
may be saved, so she saw that there was but one thing to 
do, and did it. 

Throwing up her hands, and giving vent to a piercing 
shriek, she cried out as she reeled and tottered against Port- 
ley, “ O, I’m going ! Doctor, I’m so faint ! Doctor, I shall 
fall. Help me ! Help mo!” 

The Doctor was obliged to let go his hold on Gil, as he 
instinctively extended his arms to prevent Aunt Dolores 
from falling to the floor. She had so well timed her fall, 
that she landed plump in the doctor’s arms, where she lay 
apparently in a faint. 


A REVELATION. 


127 


Gil being thus freed, Vie hurried him away, saying to 
Portley: “For heaven’s sake, Doctor, attend to my poor 
aunt while I secure this scamp. I’ll manage him.” 

As she marched with Gil out of the room, she said to 
him, “Watch at the door for St. John. Tell him when he 
comes that a room has been secured for him. Keep him in 
the front parlor for a few moments until I am prepared to 
see him.” 


IY. 

A REVELATION". 

“My dear madam,” said Portley, burdened with the 
weight of Aunt Dolores, who reclined in his arms as one in 
a swoon, “ your nerves are unstrung. It’s the excitement. 
You can’t stand it.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! oh ! ” moaned the patient, wondering whether 
Vic and Gil had already escaped, and whether it was safe 
for her to come to yet. 

It now occurred to Portley that the only way to revive 
the fainting lady was to administer to her a dose of his Pre- 
servative Preparations. He no sooner thought of it, than 
he proceeded to put the plan into execution. Little dream- 
ing of what the doctor was meditating, Aunt Dolores re- 
mained as described, determined to hold Portley a prisoner 
until Yic had time to make off with Gil. Portley gently 
lowered her head on his left arm. Her face was towards 


128 


VIC. 


him ; her eyes closed. He put his right hand into his coat 
pocket, and drew forth a fair-sized bottle containing a liquid 
of a greenish tint, in which was a quantity of pills. He 
shook the vial, uncorked it with his teeth, and firmly hold* 
ing his victim, thrust the neck of the bottle into her partly 
opened mouth, and, ere she was aware, he had emptied the 
contents down her throat. 

“ There i ” he exclaimed. “ I’m ready to lay my life 
you’re better now. Ain’t you ? ” 

She certainly came to herself with astonishing quickness, 
starting from his arms with a scream which was half lost in 
a choking gurgle. She gagged and spit out, and took from 
her mouth a handful of pills which she secretly dropped on 
the floor. This was, indeed, more than she had bargained 
for; but she had gained her point, and, like an able general 
and a true woman, she did not regret the price it cost. 

“You’re a different woman already!” triumphantly ex- 
claimed Portley, as she looked around with a wry face, 
smacking her lips, and trying to get the disagreeable taste 
out of her mouth. 

“ Indeed I am a different woman, Doctor,” she replied. 
She muttered to herself : “ Before, I was well ; now, I’m 
sick.” 

“That’s a scientific triumph,” Portley carolled forth in 
exultation, “ and a practical example of the power of pills 
and potions — that is, Portley’s Preservative Preparations in 
the form of pills and potions.” 

Aunt Dolores now resolved to carry into execution the 
plan she had conceived to extricate Yic from her engagement 
with Rose Portley while personating St. John. 


A REVELATION . 


113 

“ And now, Doctor,” she began, addressing herself like, 
wise to Rose, who had been a silent hut sympathizing spec- 
tator of her sufferings, “ I will let you into a little family 
secret, which it is proper you and your daughter should 
know. It may be a sore disappointment to you at first, but 
you have too much strength and greatness of mind, Doctor, 
to allow any disappointment to trouble you overmuch.” 

“ Co-rect, madam,” and Portley straightened himself and 
held his head high as he heard himself so liberally praised. 
“You have judged me with marvellous insight. But to 
what do you refer ? ” 

“To the attachment that exists between my nephew, 
Mortimer, and my niece, Mrs. Chester.” 

She watched the effect of these words upon the doctor 
and upon Rose. The latter seemed as if every function of 
life had come to a full stop — a sudden termination of exist- 
ence and transformation into marble — for she stood like a 
statue looking at the speaker in petrified amazement. Then 
she appeared to recover her breath with two or three sharp 
little screams, her hands held against her heart. 

The doctor’s face fell, and he clutched the air wildly ; 
his heavy jaws snapped together, and he began grinding his 
teeth. 1 

“ I hope you won’t excite yourself, my dear Miss Portley, 
nor you, my dear Doctor. I tell you this out of pure grati- 
tude.” 

Thus Aunt Dolores, as she looked from one to the other 
with the keenest sympathy in tone and glance. And then, 
she added, “ Did you not notice how coolly he treated Rose 
this morning ? ” 


130 


VIC. 

il Mortimer in love with Mrs. Chester ! ” were the words 
that fell from Rose’s pallid lips. “ That’s why he took no 
notice of me when he came in.” 

“ And he proposed to Rose only yesterday,” cried Portley, 
finding his voice at last. 

“ Hugged and kissed me — called me sweet things — asked 
me to be his wife. Only yesterday ! ” 

Between tears and sobs Rose enumerated these par- 
ticulars. 

“ And to-day — such is the lack of moral sense on the part 
of my graceless nephew,” observed Aunt Dolores, relent- 
lessly bent on carrying out her design — “ To-day he intends 
to propose marriage to my niece. I overheard a conversa- 
tion between them at breakfast in which he made an ap- 
pointment to meet her alone in this room to-day, and about 
this hour, too, and from what I heard, I believe he will pop 
the question to her.” 

“ Why, madam, you actually stun me ! My poor child ! 
My blighted Rose ! ” 

He put his arm round his daughter’s waist. She was 
weeping silently. 

“ Oh ! father, isn’t this awful ? ” said Rose. 

“ Awful, my child, awful ! ” returned Portley, in a tearful 
voice, whipping out his red bandanna, whimpering and wip- 
ing his eyes. “ And my intentions towards this young man 
were so honorable, so benevolent. Only think of me, in the 
purity, sincerity and kindness of my heart, giving him all the 
Russias, every single one,” sobbing and drying his eyes , u to 
say nothing of the Pacific Coast, for the manufacture and 
sale of my Preservative Preparations. But, madam, unless 


A REVELATION. 131 

I hear this from his own lips, I cannot credit it ; I really 
cannot.” 

“Neither can I — nor will I,” exclaimed Rose. “After 
the way he talked to me, calling me his adorable creature — 
asking me to be his wife — no, I won’t believe it.” 

“It’s quite natural for you to doubt what I have told 
you,” rejoined Aunt Dolores. “ But you shall hear him 
speak to her. Then judge for yourselves. I am as curious as 
you are to know what will take place at this interview be- 
tween him and my niece. This is just about the time ” — 
glancing at the clock on the mantel, “that they appointed 
to meet. Let us conceal ourselves and listen to their con- 
versation. You’ll know them by their voices, for, although 
their wonderful resemblance extends even to their voices, 
his is just a trifle deeper in tone. But you must on no 
account show yourselves.” 

“ No, we will not,” eagerly exclaimed Portley and Rose. 
“ Where can we hide ? ” 

“ Here is a butler’s pantry which we do not use. When 
you are inside you can hear every word spoken in this 
room, even when the door is closed.” 

Aunt Dolores opened the door of a good-sized pantry 
formed by a recess, on one side of the room. 

“ Get in there. I will close the door, lock it, if you don’t 
object, and take the key out, so that when they come in 
here, they will find no one,” said Aunt Dolores. “ Should 
they think of looking into the pantry, and then finding it 
locked, they will, of course, conclude that no one can be 
inside, as they know I always carry the key. I will hide be- 
hind the curtains, so as to be ready to release you the mo- 
ment they have gone.” 


132 


VIC. 


It was not without some reluctance that Portley and Rose 
consented to be locked in the pantry, but their curiosity 
was so great that it overcame every other consideration. 


V. 


THE MOCK-MARRIAGE PROPOSAL. 

Portley and Rose being now safely under lock and key, 
Aunt Dolores sought Vic’s indispensable help to the com* 
plelion of her project. A few hurried words soon informed 
Vic of the state of affairs. She was still in male attire. 
Her manoeuvering aunt said in a whisper, as they entered the 
room from the parlor, “ Come, Vic, and make love to me in 
a loud tone of voice. I represent your cousin, Mrs. Chester. 
They are prepared for all this performance. You must ask 
my hand in marriage. You will not only have to put the 
questions, but likewise answer them yourself, for your 
cousin’s voice and your own, you know, are so much alike, 
except that Mortimer’s is deeper in tone, as a man’s should 
be.” 

Vic entered heartily into the spirit of the thing, as she 
always did when acting a part, possessing, as previously 
stated, a natural aptitude for the histrionic art; and, as 
with all art-aptitudes, its exercise was the complete gratifi- 
cation of an- intense passion. 

As Aunt Dolores wheeled the arm-chair near to the pan- 


TEE MOCK-MARRIAGE PROPOSAL. 


133 


try, and sat in it, Vie said in a loud, deep voice : “ Cousin, 
dear, you have kept your appointment punctually and well. 
There is no one here ? Ah ! This pantry ? ” 

And then she tried and shook the door, saying in a voice 
that was low and gentle, “Mortimer, dear, that door’s 
locked. Aunty keeps the key.” 

Portley and Rose felt thankful to Aunt Dolores for lock- 
ing them in and taking out the key. 

Yic then approached the arm-chair, and carried on, with 
herself, the following dialogue, varying the tones of her 
rich, musical voice to suit the persons she was representing i 
a fine, manly, middle register for Mortimer, and her own 
low, sweet, liquid, womanly tones for his cousin, Mrs. 
Chester. 

“ Darling cousin, we are alone. I have much to say to 
you.” 

“ Dear Mortimer, I came here according to appointment, 
and I am prepared to listen.” 

“ Beloved, I have long desired an opportunity to tell you, 
adorable creature,” 

(“Just what he called me,” whispered Rose to her 
father.) 

“That I love you with a deep and tender affection.” 

(“ Damned scoundrel ! ” muttered Portley. “ He’s no 
man ! ”) 

“But, Mortimer, you have engaged yourself to Rose 
Portley ; until that is broken off ” 

“ But you know, dear cousin, that was only a little flirta- 
tion — a mere joke with that foolish thing, Rose Portley. I 
have broken off with her already. I swear I will never see 


134 


VIC. 


her again ; I will never let go this dear, darling little hand 
which rests so lovingly in mine, until you promise to be my 
wife — my own ducky of a wife. Your heart must tell you 
what my lips would murmur in your ear.” 

(“ Oh, that Mrs. Chester's a two-faced thing,” said Rose, 
between her teeth. “ I could scratch her eyes out.”) 

(“111 make him sweat for this,” hissed Portley, in the 
same low tone.) 

“ Dear Mortimer, I will be your wedded wife, and you 
shall be my hubby dear.” 

Yic now kissed Aunt Dolores with a loud smack, the 
osculatory noise distinctly reaching the ears of the listeners. 

(“ I won’t stand it ! ” exclaimed Rose in a suppressed 
voice.) 

(“ I can’t stand it ! ” cried Portley, under his breath.) 

(“Oh, Edmond, Edmond,” mentally ejaculated Rose, “if 
you will will but chastise that shameless trifler, I am yours 
till death.”) 

Aunt and niece now concluded that their little comedy 
had accomplished the purpose intended. Yic retired to the 
front parlor, leaving Aunt Dolores to ascertain from Portley 
and Rose the actual state of their feelings. 

Aunt Dolores immediately unlocked the pantry-door, say- 
ing, “ They are gone now. You can come out.” 

The doctor and Rose emerged from their place of con- 
cealment in a state of great excitement. 

“ Madam, we owe you a thousand thanks,” cried Portley, 
“ for unmasking to us that villain, and he your nephew, too.” 

He added to himself : “ If I don’t fix him, my name isn’t 
Portley.” 


THE MOCK-MARRIAGE PROPOSAL. 135 

“ I implore you,” pleaded Aunt Dolores, “ not to breathe 
to any one, a syllable of what you have overheard.” 

“Not a syllable to any one,” weeped Rose, with the 
mental reservation, “ except to Edmond.” 

She sank on one of the sofas and covered her face with 
her hands. 

Portley in a trice had out his red bandanna, and slowly 
wiped his face, holding his silver-rimmed eye-glasses in front 
of him, between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. 

“ Madam, you may depend upon my prudence,” began 
Portley, in tremolo accents. “ Although this is outrageous 
treatment, Portley will suffer in silence ; ” a burst of grief 
interrupts his speech, while he mops up invisible tears. 
“Portley will seek consolation, madam, in the rapt con- 
templation of his own rectitude,” — another outburst, as he 
soaks up the microscopic tear-drops — “ and the good that 
he can do by his Preservative Preparations, which have 
never been known to fail in kidney and bilious troubles, 
madam,” — grief for a moment choked his utterance, — “ and in 
restoring the wasted vital energies, and making the aged 
and afflicted young and well,” — heartfelt sobs again forced 
him to cease for an instant as he vigorously dried his eyes ; — 
“they help pulmonary disorders right along; for sale by all 
the druggists, country stores, and corner groceries through- 
out the Union, and in many parts of Europe, Asia, and 
Africa.” Excessive demonstrations of grief played sad havoc 
with the three continents. “ Excuse this weakness, madam, 
but never has Portley, the famous, I may say, the renowned 
Portley, whose celebrity dates from the better and purer 
days of the Republic, who has caused the bane of our coun- 


136 


VIC. 


try — dyspepsia — to disappear before his Preservative Prep- 
arations — never, in the whole course of his long and glorious 
professional career, has he experienced such rough and cruel 
treatment. Hence these tears ! Come, Rose, my child, my 
poor, ill-used Rose.” Rose takes her father’s arm. “ You’ll 
excuse us, madam, if we go home the shortest way — by the 
balcony ; I know our window is open. I really don’t feel 
like going into the street in my present condition.” 

“ Certainly, if you choose to go that way,” answered Aunt 
Dolores, glad to get rid of them. 

Portley and Rose walked to the middle window. Here 
Portley put his hand to the window-door and found it open. 
The doctor made a mental note of the fact. St. John, the 
reader will recollect, had left it unlocked. 

Turning to Aunt Dolores at the balcony, Portley said : 
“ I thank you, madam, and bid you an affectionate farewell. 
Take Portley’s blessing,” raising his hands in benediction. 

“ I, too, thank you, madam,” tearfully exclaimed Rose, 
“ for exposing a villain who had made an impression upon 
my heart, but whose image is now blotted out forever.” 

“ I am, indeed, pained,” returned Aunt Dolores, “ that a 
nephew of mine should have caused you so much sorrow. 
Adieu.” 

Portley and Rose disappeared upon the balcony, closing 
the window-door behind them. The weather still continued 
warm. Rose had kept on her hat and sacque, and Portley 
had retained his overcoat, and had taken his hat from the 
table in making his exit. He now put it on, and as he 
whispered to Rose, his whole manner underwent a sudden 
change: “He’s rich. We’ll begin suit against him at once 


THE MAN THA T WILL AL WA YS DO HIS D UTY. 137 


for breach of promise of marriage, and put our damages at 
one hundred thousand dollars. It will be a splendid adver- 
tising card for me and my Preservative Preparations. 
Couldn’t have anything better. And as he’s a non-resident, 
I’ll get out an order for his arrest, and make him give bonds 
for his appearance. I’ll get our former coachman, Brani- 
gan, who is now a court officer since his uncle was elected a 
judge, I’ll get him to rush the thing through. I tell you, 
they’ve to get up pretty early to get the best of Portley.” 

So saying, Portley, followed by Rose, entered his dwell- 
ing, having crossed over to his own balcony and pushed 
open the window. 


VI. 


THE MAN THAT WILL ALWAYS DO HIS DUTY. 

u Well, how do they take it ? ” asked Vic, coming in from 
the parlor. 

“ Splendid,” replied Aunt Dolores. “ Rose whimpered a 
little, and the old gentleman shed a peck of tears, but he 
seems quite resigned to bear his sorrows in silence, and 
seek consolation in his Preservative Preparations. Rose 
says your image is now blotted out from her heart forever. 
Poor thing ! She has probably swallowed a piece of blot- 
ting paper.” 

“ Well, I feel very sorry that I caused Rose and old man 
Portley — the humbug — so much pain, though I can’t help 
laughing about it” — here Vic burst forth into a loud, long, 


138 


VIC. 


musical laugh ; — “ but I couidn’t foresee how the thing was 
going to turn out. And now I’ll go and lay aside pants 
forever, and be in readiness to receive Mortimer in my own 
proper person.” 

“ I'll go and give orders to the cook,” observed Aunt 
Dolores, “ to get us up a fine dinner against St. John’s arrival, 
to celebrate the happy reconciliation. I shall settle upon 
you, Yic, sufficient to give you a moderate income independ- 
ent of St. John’s resources.” 

“ Oh ! auntie,” broke out Yic in grateful tones. 

“Not a word, my dear. My greatest pleasure in life is 
to see you happy. Perhaps St. John may have better luck 
after you are married.” She added, sotte voce , — “ I doubt if 
he is worth all you have undergone for him.” 

Aunt Dolores left the room as Yic sank on the sofa and 
passed into a delicious reverie. She recalled all the events 
that had occurred to her since her arrival in New York, and 
reviewed her own part in the mystification of St. John, 
I^ortley, and Rose with a humorous sense of triumphant 
satisfaction. The thought of the near approach of reunion 
with St. John caused the blood to course through her veins 
like liquid fire. A perfect delirium of joy filled her being 
as, in her mind’s eye, she rested on her lover’s breast. The 
words of the poet came to her, and she addressed them to 
St. John, whose love-lit face her powerful imagination pic> 
tured close to her own : 

“ I know not, I ask not, if guilt’s in that heart, 

I but know that I love thee whatever thou art. ” 

She remained a long while in this blissful state, building 


THE MAN THA T WILL AL WA YS HO HIS H JJTY. 139 

innumerable sky-castles — a sort of architecture equally pleas- 
ing and unprofitable. 

An hour probably flew by in this agreeable pastime. 

Moved by a sudden impulse, Yic rose from her recumbent 
posture, and went to the mirror to see that her gentlemanly 
apparel was in perfect order, and then opened the piano, at 
which she sat. 

“Before I lay aside male costume,” she said to herself, 
half aloud, “ I’ll sing Mortimer’s song. How often have I 
recalled it ! ” 

She ran her fingers over the keys with practised ease, 
evoking rippling music. Then playing a tender yet passion- 
ate love-melody, she acompanied herself as she sang, in a 
a contralto voice of penetrating power and great sweetness 
the following song : 

0, DARLING, TELL ME WHY ! 

0, darling, tell me why 
This bliss when thou art nigh. 

Why this light and ready mirth, 

Why this soaring far from earth, 

’Midst an atmosphere of joy. 

Of pure delight without alloy. 

Why this bliss when thou art nigh, 

O, angel, tell me why ! 

O, darling, tell me why 
Thou dost so softly sigh, 

When I alone am by ; 

Why that sweet and gladsome smile. 

Thy dear hand in mine the while. 

Why that flitting, tell-tale blush ! 

Why this rapturous, thrilling hush ! 

And why that fond, bright, beaming eye, 

O, angel, tell me why ? 


140 VIC. 

O, whence this thrilling gladness I 
This delicious madness ! 

This mounting up on high 
Into joy’s etherial sky? 

O, well thou know’st the reason why 
Our hearts are bound with bands of steel, 

Our souls are joined for woe or weal, 

Forever in the coming time — 

Forever mine, forever thine. 

A 8 the last note died away in a soft strain of melodic 
witchery — she remained seated at the piano silent and im- 
movable, lost in ecstatic musings — the balcony window was 
slowly and noiselessly opened. The piano was placed in an 
alcove on the left hand side of the room as you entered from 
the hall. Sitting with her head bent in meditation, it was 
impossible for her to notice that the middle balcony window 
had slowly turned on its hinges, without noise. 

Two men appeared on the balcony. One was Portley. 
The other was a plainly dressed man of middle height, 
about forty years old, and conspicuous for a shock of hair of 
the reddest of red, with a huge pair of whiskers to match. 

“ That’s the man,” whispered Portley, with a grim smile 
as he pointed to Vic. “ Branigan, do your duty.” 

“ Be aisy,” replied Branigan, in the same tone, and with 
a self-complacent air and a gesture of his huge, red hairy 
hand, that spoke volumes. “Be aisy, I repate, yer honor, 
for Branigan’ s a man that will always do his dooty. I’ll in- 
trojuice meself.” 

Portley retired, well pleased with the results of his efforts, 
lie had indeed used every means that money, ingenuity, 
rapidity of movement and utter unscrupulousness could 


TEE MAN TEA T WILL AL WA YS DO EIS D TJTY. 141 


command to affect his object. Returning home with 
Branigan and all the requisite papers, die heard some one 
playing the piano in Vic’s house. Remembering that the 
middle balcony window was unlocked, and hoping that it 
might possibly be still in that condition, he took Branigan 
with him to reconnoitre. To their joy they found it un- 
locked ; and that the person who was singing and playing on 
the piano was no other than the very individual of whom 
they were in search. 

Vic was rudely disturbed from the delightful reverie into 
which she had fallen, by a sudden and an insolently heavy 
tap on the shoulder. 

She turned on the piano stool as though stung by an 
adder, and sprang to her feet. 

She was confronted by the huge red whiskers, yawning 
grin and a bow from the bushy red head that ornamented 
the stalwart shoulders of Mr. Michael Branigan. 

“ Good marning ter yer ! ” 

“ O ! who are you, and what do you want ? And where 
did you come from ? ” 

She put the questions in alarmed, hurried accents. Every 
vestige of color had fled from her cheeks. 

“Shure I have the honor to address Mr. Mortimer St. 
John ? ” * 

“ Well ! ” she said, cautiously. 

“ Don’t you know yer shoed ? ” 

“Eh? Shoed?” she looked at him puzzled, then down 
at her boots. Catching at the first solution of the mystery 
that offered itself, she exclaimed, “ Ah ! I see I Shoemaker ! 
But, my man, you should have told the girl to announce 


142 


VIC. 

you. It’s not my habit to give orders to my shoemaker in 
my parlors. I suppose you’re a shoemaker living in the 
neighborhood and you want my custom, eh ? ” 

“Divil a hit,” replied Branigan, gruffly. “Look at me 
badge,” exhibiting his badge under his lapel. “ I’m cart- 
officer Branigan, and no more a shoemaker than yer honor. 
Yis, sir, I’m cart-officer of Justice O’Shaughnessy’s cart, I’ll 
have ye know, and the dignity of the cart’s got to be main- 
tained, and if ye’ve got the dom cheek to call the cart- 
officer of the sid cart a shoemaker agin, by the bloody nose 
of the howly St. Michael, I’ll knock daylight through the 
loikes of ye.” 

He spit upon both his hands, rubbed them well together, 
clenched his fists and glared at Yic, who retreated a few 
steps, trembling and pale, declaring, “ No offence intended, 
I assure you. A court-officer ! What is this! Tell me! 
Tell me, my good man, what’s the meaning of this ! ” 

Her voice was husky. Her tongue clove to the roof of 
her mouth, and she felt her head beginning to swim. Only 
by a strong effort was she enabled to retain her self-pos- 
session. 

“Ah! Don’t let it bother ye,” said Branigan, mollified 
by Yic’s disclaimer of intentional offence, and rendered sym- 
pathetic by the evident trepidation of the extremely hand- 
some young gentleman — as she appeared to him — whom he 
was addressing. “ Can’t ye give bail ? ” 

“Bail! Bail! What for?” 

“ Why, yer nabbed — arristed. I’ll be after throubling ye 
to walk a bit wid me. I will always do me dooty.” 

“ Arrested ! ” repeated Yic, ready to drop, and feeling 


THE MAH THAT WILL AL WA FS DO HIS D UTY. 143 

her limbs giving way. “Please sir, how arrested, what 
for ? ” 

“To make ye give bonds to appear in a shoot agin ye for 
brache of promise. Ah ! me swate fate-cheered young man, 
it’s a ticklish thing, so it is, to troifle wid a woman’s fale- 
ings.” 

“ And must I go with you?’’ she asked, a cold perspira- 
tion breaking out upon her at every pore, and an uncon- 
trollable tremor seizing her whole body. 

“ Shure. Here’s the arder of the cart,” showing a paper. 

Yic ran through it hastily. It commanded the officer to 
take possession of the body of Mortimer St. John, and bring 
the same before the court at a certain hour and day therein 
named. 

Yic reasoned with herself thus : “ But I am not Mortimer 
St. John in reality ; hence, I cannot be taken as Mortimer 
St. John. But what’s to be done? Shall I call Aunt 
Dolores ? She’ll be frightened to death. I must spare her 
this stroke of anxiety ; it would make her ill. I must try 
and get out of the scrape by myself.” 

An idea occurred to her, and she recovered something of 
her old-time confidence. 

“ Will you allow me to go to my room first ?” she asked. 

“ Of curse. But I will have to go wid ye.” 

“ Impossible ! ” exclaimed Yic. 

“ Ah ! ye naden’t mind me if ye want to put on a clane 
shirt,” replied Branigan, with a grin. 

“But, my man, I couldn’t think of it. You shall examine 
the room and satisfy yourself that it is impossible for me to 
escape. Then stand outside the door for ten minutes. If 
you will do that I will give you a fifty dollar bill.” 


144 


Vic. 


“ Will ye be sure to come out of the room agin ? ” 

“ I will. I give you my word of honor that I will come 
out of the room, and out of* the same door that I went in ; 
I give you my word of honor.” 

“ But will ye give me the fifty ? ” 

“ Certainly I will, and before I go in, too.” 

“ Whist ! I’m yer man,” spitting into his right palm, and 
rubbing it with his left hand. “ Give us yer fisht on it, me 
b’y.” 

Not without a feeling of repugnance Yic extended to him 
her dainty hand, which he enclosed in a vise-like grip, giving 
her a tremendous shake, as he said,“ Agreed, me b y. Yer 
know, me fine feller, it does a man’s heart good to mate the 
loikes of ye. But, of curse, I must arrist ye, ye know,” 
seizing Yic by the coat collar, with a merry twinkle in his 
eye. “ Shure, I will always do me dooty.” 

He thus escorted Yic to the door of her room, where the 
bargain was duly consummated. He then sat on the stair- 
case, contemplating, with the eyes of affection, a new, crisp 
fifty dollar bill which he held in his hands, while Yic locked 
herself in her room. 


YH. 

PORTLET’S MISSION’. 

In’ blissful ignorance of the occurrence narrated in the 
preceding chapter, Aunt Dolores was busied superintending 
the preparations of the superb dinner with which St. John 
was to be welcomed. She had heard Yic singing in the 


PORTLET’S MISSION. 


145 


back parlor, and supposing that she was still there, she went 
to tell her that it was time to dress in anticipation of St. 
John’s expected visit. Finding Yic no longer there, Aunt 
Dolores concluded that she had gone to her room. The 
piano was still open. She closed it, and was about to return 
to the basement, when the bell rang and Doctor Portley 
was announced. 

The doctor’s countenance wore an expression of condo- 
lence, tempered with the look of a man, who having had “ a 
duty to perform,” had performed it with Roman firmness. 

Aunt Dolores received him with her usual affability, but 
with an air which plainly said, “ Well, what’s out now?” 

“ Walk in, Doctor. I trust you have recovered from the 
shock of this morning. I was so disgusted with Mortimer’s 
conduct, that I have entirely discarded him — don't care what 
becomes of him. I never want to see him again.” 

“ Indeed ! Indeed, madam,” returned Portley ; “ I’m get- 
ting partly over the shock — I may say by degrees. I ad- 
mire your splendid devotion to justice and right. What 
moral character and moral courage you have ! Moral char- 
acter ! Ah ! Ah ! Moral character ! What a theme for 
a poet ! ” 

Portley remained for a moment in abstracted silence, 
lost, apparently, in contemplating the inexpressible beauty 
of “ moral character,” as a poetical theme. In reality his 
thoughts were not of quite so elevated an order. 

11 She’s deuced civil,” he said to himself. “ I can’t under- 
stand it, after I have had her nephew arrested and placed 
under bonds. She says she don't care what becomes of 
him. I don’t believe in such savage saintliness — such un- 


146 


VIC. 


natural disinterestedness. She’s got a purpose. What is 
it?” 

Aunt Dolores looked at him with a curious gaze, and 
wondered what deviltry he was hatching, and what his visit 
portended. 

“ Madam, I trust you do not think my feeling too harsh 
towards your wretched nephew ? ” 

As Portley said this, he looked at her through his silver- 
rimmed eye-glasses with a deprecatory gaze. 

“ Too harsh ! Doctor, you are a model of Christian mod- 
eration. If you had drawn a pistol on him, you could 
scarcely have been blamed.” 

“ Me ! Me ! Portley draw a pistol upon one of his fellow- 
beings ! ” It was positively a volume of sermons personified 
to see the virtuous horror that overspread the features of 
the speaker. “ Portley use a deadly weapon against even 
the meanest, most degraded of the human race ? No ! He 
who has wrought and toiled for man during so many years ? 
He who has sought to raise the fallen — fallen by the way- 
side — by means of his Preservative Preparations ? Such a 
man like that, draw a pistol on your nephew! You are 
mistaken in Portley, madam ! ” 

“ Of course, I know, Doctor, you are utterly incapable of 
such an action. What I meant to say was that the ordinary 
man placed in your cruel and humiliating position, would 
have done so.” 

“Ah! Madam, there I agree with you. The ordinary 
man would. With that keen perception so characteristic 
of your sex you have penetrated that truth, which I confess 
out of sheer modesty, I have tried to hide ; namely, that 


PORTLET’ 8 MISSION. 


147 


the humble individual who now addresses you, is not an 
ordinary man. But my effort to hide the truth, madam, 
has proven a flat failure. But it’s the only thing that I ever 
failed in. Fact is, you cant dam greatness. It will surely 
overflow somewheres. By the bye, did your nephew seem 
flustered ? Say anything ? ” 

He paused and looked inquiringly at her, somewhat sur- 
prised that she did not allude more directly to Branigan’s 
unceremonious visit. 

“No, he did not say much,” replied Aunt Dolores, a little 
puzzled. u He’s always very cool, you know. Takes every- 
thing easy, because he has no moral character.” 

She thought this was a safe general remark, sufficiently 
non-commital, and sure to meet the doctor’s views. 

“ So he took it easy, did he ? ” thought Portley. Then he 
asked, “ How’s Mrs. Chester under the circumstances ? ” 
And he said to himself, “ Her hubby dear must feel pretty 
cheap.” 

“ O, Mrs. Chester’s not feeling very bright,” returned Aunt 
Dolores. 

She had scarcely finished speaking when they were 
startled by hearing a scream in the hall, followed by the 
gruff tones of a man’s angry voice, exclaiming, “By the 
bloody nose of the howly St. Michael, it is cart-officer 
Branigan, is it, that ye want to be after fooling wid ? ” 

Portley started to his feet. Aunt Dolores ran to the 
door, breathless. As she opened it, Yic, in lady’s attire, 
came flying down the staircase pursued by Branigan. She 
rushed into the back parlor through the open door, with the 
exclamation, “ Oh ! aunty ! ” as she took a position behind 


148 


VIG. 


the ample form of her amazed relative. Branigan pushed 
in after her and stood mid-way between Aunt Dolores and 
Portley. 

“Well, what’s all this ? What do you want, sir ? ” cried 
Aunt Dolores, looking from Yic to Branigan. 

The latter individual addressed himself to Portley, as 
follows : u Doctor, me prisoner has gone and transmogrified 
himself into a woman,” pointing to Yic, who was dressed 
in the same black silk with white lace overdresss, which she 
wore when visiting the Portleys. She looked exquisitely 
beautiful, and bore herself with queenly grace. “ That’s 
Mr. Mortimer St. John in them wimmen toggeries. She’s 
him. No, I mane, he’s her.” 

This announcement was equally surprising to Aunt 
Dolores and Portley, and to each told a different story. 
The former said nothing, but the latter threw up his hands 
and cried, “ Eh ? What ? Can it be ? Portley sold — 
completely sold ? ” 

During the excitement St. John and Gil had arrived, and 
according to Yic’s instructions Gil took him into the front 
parlor. Hearing the hubbub, Gil rushed to the sliding, 
doors, followed by St. John. Pushing them open, he ad- 
vanced into the room, St. John at his heels, supposing that 
he was to follow his conductor. 

“ Yic ! Aunt Dolores ! Doctor Portley ! ” fell from the 
lips of the astonished St. John as his eyes met the familiar 
forms and features of the persons there assembled. 

Yic took a few steps towards St. John, murmuring, 
u Mortimer ! ” 

Portley had noted Yic’s attitude towards St. John, and 
his quick ear had caught her musically intoned ejaculation. 


PORTLET'S MISSION. 


149 


“ Slippery Dick here, and Mrs. Chester, whom Branigan 
has found out, calls him Mortimer ! ” thus Portley reflected. 
“O! Ahi” 

These two exclamations were uttered half aloud, with a 
long pause between them, and seemed to express the net 
result of a series of reflections and inferences. 

At this moment the balcony middle window was thrown 
violently open, and the avenging figure of Edmond Lee, 
brandishing a heavy bludgeon, was seen, accompanied by 
Rose Portley. 

Rose had related her wrongs to him, and he had deter- 
mined to kill somebody to show her how much he loved her. 
Rose had come to point out to him “ the shameless trifler.” 

As he stepped into the room, wild and haggard, flourish- 
ing his death-dealing club, Edmond called out huskily, 
“ Rose, where’s that double-faced villain, St. John ? I’ll 
brain him ! ” 

Vie threw herself into St. John’s arms and glanced terri- 
fied over her shoulders at Edmond, and as she placed her- 
self between her lover and danger, she exclaimed, “That 
madman again ! ” 

Quick as thought, St. John disengaged one arm and drew 
a loaded revolver, already cocked, from his hip pocket, and 
presented it at Edmond’s heart, his hand extending across 
Yic’s shoulder and behind her head. St. John said quietly, 
“ I’m ready for you now.” 

Rose now screamed with terror, and casting herself in 
front of Edmond, and with both her arms round his neck, 
she looked backwards to St. John, and cried in pleading 
accents, “Don’t shoot, please don’t, dear Mr. Slippery 
Dick — good Mr. Slapjack ? ” 


150 


VIC. 


A gleam of humor lightened St. John’s countenance as 
he lowered his pistol. 

Portley struck an attitude, and summed up the whole sit- 
uation with the words, “ O, I see ! ” 

He now acted as peacemaker. Explanations followed, 
and the excited contestants soon became pacified. Mr. 
Michael Branigan was dismissed by Portley. The con- 
scientious official took his leave, muttering, as he securely 
placed in his pocket the fifty dollar bill, “ Shure, it’s the 
dignity of the cart that must be upheld, and Branigan’s the 
man that will al-ways do his dooty.” 

After the departure of this excellent gentleman, Aunt 
Dolores invited the others to remain to dinner, under the 
conviction that the universal social solvent is, what is called 
in Californese, “ a square meal.” 

Portley finally consented to be reconciled, convinced that 
he could do nothing different to further his interests. 

“ Portley is not malicious,” he emphatically declared. 
But he expressed the opinion in terms not to be misunder- 
stood, and in a voice of power, that Doctor Philander Potter 
Portley’s Preservative Preparations had still an important 
mission to perform in consummating the immediate restora- 
tion and the unconditional reconstruction of the wasted 
vital energies of a wicked world. 


THE END. 


THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 41 


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A. Y., Times. 

Sketches of New England life cleverly 
written.— Balto. Gazette. 

All housekeepers will appreciate it.— 
West Meriden, Ct., Recorder. 

It was a very fruitful experience and is 
rich reading. — Providence Press. 

An amusing account of trials and tribu- 
lations with “help. 1 -’— Phila. Record. 

A tale of woman’s woe in the matter of 
servants— semi-humorous.— A. Y. Post. 

Semi-humorous account of a New Eng- 
land woman’s experience. — Hartford Post. 

Affords a dollar’s worth of recreation for 
a winter’s evening. — Woonsocket Reporter. 

Deeply interesting ; and above all pure 
in sentiment. — Farmington, Me., Cliron. 

A pleasant companion while traveling 
or in the drawing-room at home. — Odd 
Fellows' Register , Providence. 


Our Winter Eden. 

Pen Pictures of the Tropics, 
with an Appendix of the Seward- 
Samana Mystery. By Mrs. Genl. 
Wm. Leslie Casneau, author of 
" Hill Homes of Jamaica,” 
“Prince Kashna,” etc., who was 
lost on the Emily B. Bonder, De- 
cember, 1878, en route to her 
beautiful “Winter Eden” wdiich 
she so charmingly describes in 
this work. 112 pp., ,30 cts. 

Bright, readable, and has value beside. 

—A Y. Mail. 

A bright and vivid description. It is 
w r ritten with a jaunty pen. — Balt. Gazette. 

A pleasantly written book of travel and 
life in the West Indies .— Buffalo Courier. 

Depicts life in that climate in all its 
beauty and attractiveness. —New Bedford 
Standard. 

An interesting book, giving pen pictures 
of the Tropics in a charming manner.— 
Boston Home Journal. 

A pleasant description of the peninsula 
of Samana w 7 bich our goverment came so 
near purchasing .— Boston Transcript. 

Describes the pleasure of life in the 
West Indies in glowing terms.— Cin. Gaz. 

Relates to the Island of Samana, and as 
the author has lived there for some time, 
she is perfectly familiar with it, and gives 
many details of interest. It is well writ- 
ten.— -Boston Globe. 

By the wife of the U. S. Plenipotentiary 
to the Dominican Republic during the 
Pierce administration. Makes public for 
I *Jie first time the real cause of the failure 
of Secretary Seward’s Samana scheme.— 
Whig, Quincy, HI. 

A Story of the Strike. 

Scenes in City Life. By Eliz- 
abeth Murray. 125 pp.. 30 cts. 

Vivacious tale.— A Y. Mail. 

Sound sense — will subserve a good pur- 
pose . — San Fran. Chron. 

A pleasant story, inculcating economy, 
thrift, home-virtue, and honest industry 
as the basis of well-being and happiness. 
Sunday-School Times , Phila. 

This is one of the few books called out 
by the great railroad strike. The style is 
crisp and taking, and the book healthy 
and captivating . — Temperance Union. 

Is a faithful delineation of city life 
among the high and low. Without being 
sensational or trashy it is lively and inter- 
esting.— Providence Town and Country. 

A most timely book — a series of pen- 
pictures in which the philosophy of strikes 
and poverty and riches is illustrated. It 
tells the story completely, and with an 
aptness no political economist can excel, 
while it is perfectly level to the compre- 
hension of any reader. Should be in every 
family and read by every man, woman 
and child of to-day. — Meth. Protestant. 


THE AUTHOR’S PUBLISHING COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST, 


43 


Prisons Without Walis. 

A Novel. By Kelsic Etheridge. 
Paper. 97pp 25 cts. 

The heroine, Egypt, is a glorious being. 
—N. Y. South. 

Has the curiosity-exciting tendency. — 
Boston Beacon. 

The characters are finely wrought up. — 
Williamsport (Pa.) Register. 

The interest grows and retains attention 
to the end.— N. 0. Picayune. 

Is written in easy style and is sensa- 
tional enough to sustain its interest to the 
end.— Providence (R. I.) Town and Coun- 
try. 

Short, sententious, marrowy, and spiced 
with episodes. Has a warm Southern 
aroma of orange and magnolia blossoms. 
— Baltimore Meth. Protestant. 

Of rare beauty and power in its vivid, 
life-like picturing of men and places. 
Through such artistic touches of skill and 
strength we are wafted in thought as we 
follow the hero and heroine through the 
mazes of the old, old story. — Ladies' 
Pearl , St. Louis. 

Strange, weird story. The style is pe- 
culiar, and has a wonderful fascination 
about it. We feel, while reading it, that 
the strongest bars which hold us prisoners 
are those which fate casts about us, whose 
iron grasp we cannot unloose ; that the 
walls built highest about us are those 
which neither our will, nor our despair, 
nor our unutterable agony, can batter 
down.— Kansas City Times. 


Traveller’s Crrato-Bag. 

A Hand-Book for utilizing Frag- 
ments of Leisure in Railroad 
Trains, Steamboats, Way Stations 
and Easy Chairs. Edited by an 
Old Traveller. 110 pp..25 cts. 

Full of spice and fun. — Baltimore Meth. 
Protestant, 

No traveler should be without it.— N. Y. 
Forest and Stream. 

Teeming with rollicking humor, and a 
Kind of satire that will be enjoyable.— 
Pittsburg Commercial- 

There are many good stories in this 
Dook ; some exciting and interesting, 
while none are by any means dull.— Star 
Spangled Banner. 

It has three separate elements as unlike 
as vinegar, aloes and honey. It is an odd 
book, the design original, and is a grab- 
ba" literally in which to plunge the mind 
by "’a glance of the eye.— Kansas City 
Times. 

Is a handy little volume of short, inter- 
esting original stories. Many a weary 
moment may be beguiled away by the fa- 
tigued traveler, provided he takes the 
“Grab-Bag” with him .—Epitome of Lit- 
erature. 


Bonny Eagle. 

A Vacation Sketch — the humor of 
roughing it. 121pp 25 cts. 

Exceedingly entertaining. — Brooklyn 
Times. 

Rich, racy and entertaining. — Quincy 
(El.) Whig. 

Some of the experiences are exceeding- 
ly ludicrous. — Epitome of Literature. 

The style is fresh and graphic, and the 
humor and satire are keen and pure. — 
Boston Home Journal. 

Funny ; conceived and executed in great 
good humor. Bright and entertaining. — 
Chicago Sat. Eve. Herald. 

Will be read with interest and amuse- 
ment, and many a tear (of laughter) will 
be shed over its all too few pages. — San 
Francisco Post. 

Curious and ludicrous experiences graph- 
ically told with a naive humor and deli- 
cate satire. It is a fresh and spicy book. 
— St. Louis Herald. 

Very spicy, humorous, satirical. Par- 
ticularly interesting. Delightful hours 
amid forest scenes of beauty and retire- 
ment. — Hebrew Leader , N . Y. 

The relation of the haps and mishaps, 
mild experiences of “ roughing it ” under 
canvas, their fraternal intercourse with 
the Dryads and Hamadryads of the grove, 
and the varied incidents, is given in grace- 
ful language. A friendly expedition has 
rarely been chronicle^ in better style. — 
The South, New Yo r rk. 


Voice of a Shell. 

By 0. C. Auringer, 180pp. 40 cts. 

A fine collection. — Pittsburg Leader. 

Well written.— Schoharie Republican. 

Contains many fine lines. — Balt. Gaz. 

There is no lack of fire and passion. — 
Literary World. 

It is delicate, beautiful and grand. — 
Sandy Hill Herald. 

Most of them written while at sea. — 
Glen's Falls Messenger. 

There is much in the book that is really 
fine.— Glen's Falls Republican. 

Much poetic feeling, and an absorbing 
love of the sea. — Herald, Chicago. 

Full of peculiar interest, grandeur and 
tenderness. — Boston Home Journal. 

Poetic merit. Most of them are short, 
and present a pleasant variety. — Troy 
Whig. 

A book of poems, having — as their col- 
lective title implies — a salt-water flavor. — 
Syracuse Herald. 

Exceedingly pleasing, in their sweet 
delicacy of thought. Poetic and home 
like.— N. Y. Mail. 

A touch of real poetic feeling and origi- 
nality. The author’s feeling for the sea 
is evidently an intense one. — American 
Bookseller. 

To all lovers of the sea, and to all who 
linger by its sounding shores, nothing can 
be more entrancing than the pages of this 
beautiful little volume.— Altoona Tribune. 


44 the authob’s publishing company’s descriptive list. 


Who Did It ? 

By Make Frazier. 137pp. 30 cts. 
. An excellent theme.— N. Y. Post. 

Deeply interesting.— Farmington, Me., 
Chronicle. 

In these times when grave-robbing is 
very common it is quite to the point.— 
Whig , Quincy, 111. 

A story with a suspected crime for the 
basis of its mysterious plot— well told and 
absorbing.— Cin. Gazette. 

A sensational story in which a case of 
catalepsy so closely resembles death that 
the girl is declared dead.— New Bedford, 
Mass., Standard. 

Is a thrilling story, and he who com- 
mences reading it will never stop until 
his eyes have glanced over its last page — 
Clyde, N. Y., Times. 

Is a deeply interesting story of a beauti- 
ful girl. Around the terrible incident of 
being buried alive is woven a romantic 
story. — Boston Home Journal . 

Portrays the dangers of premature bu- 
rial. Serves a good purpose in directing 
attention to the necessity of absolute cer- 
tainity as to death before interment is al- 
lowed to take place.— Boston Traveller. 

It would be difficult to find a more ex- 
citable and thoroughly readable story. 
The history of the narrative claims an or- 
igin in south-eastern New Hampshire, 
but the scene is thrilling enough to have 
been laid in a far more eventful country. 
It is just the book for an hour’s reading 
on a winter’s night. — Mirror and AmPn ., 
Manchester, N. //. 

Earnest Appeal to Moody. 

A Satire. 34 pp 10 cts. 

A clever poem— the hits well taken and 
to the point, and will be appreciated by 
many as the names are outlined suffi- 
ciently as to be readily recognized.— Epit- 
ome of Literature. 

The references to Kingsley, McLoughlin, 
Kinsella and the other crooked “ K’s,” 
Bob Furey, Bill Fowler and the rest will 
prove quite amusing, especially as it rep- 
resents them as amenable to reform and 
to be conscience-stricken by Mr. Moody’s 
preaching.— Brooklyn Times. 

Only a Tramp. 

By the author of “Alone,” 

“ Eone,” “ Through the Dark,” 

etc. 212pp 50 cts. 

An exceedingly picturesque story, 
with a strong and strangely fascin- 
ating character, in the person of the 
adopted daughter, or kidnapped 
protege, of a Tramp, for its heroine. 
The lives of royal queens rarely fur- 
nished such heroic and beautiful 
material for romance as the author 
has here cunningly and ably drawn 
from the life of this poor little girl- 
tramp. 


Bcra ; 

Or, the C. and M. C. Railroad. 

By Stuart De Leon. A novel 

169pp 40 cts. 

Well learned in. his books, and 
fresh from the schools of many 
languages, was young Greek Lyle 
when fate turned his thoughts to 
love, and chance directed his steps 
to the Railroad shops of a far-away 
village in the Northwest. And here 
— with fantastic blending of the 
quaint, strange characters who open 
the streets of frontier towns — the 
principal action of this well-told 
story transpires. Its vivid and 
swiftly-moving scenes are bright 
and refreshing, like sunlight down 
the road over which the record 
runs. 


Poor Tlieopliilus ; 

And the City of Fin. By a 
Well-Known Contributor to 

“ Puck.” 99pp 25 cts. 

Cloth extra 60 cts. 


A love story, tenderly touching, 
with much fact and little fancy; 
together with an oddly amusing and 
quaint conceit pertaining to the 
wonders of the sea, which is only the 
more interesting for the little fact 
and much fancy which it contains. 


How It Ended. 

By Marie Flaacke. 103pp.25cts. 

A story, with a glow of southern 
climes and the perfume of orange 
groves about it. A real gem of a 
little book, in the inspiriting influ- 
ence which pervades the glowing 
landscapes and shady nooks of its 
well-framed pen-pictures ; strong in 
its delicacy, love, and tenderness. 
Glenmere, 

A Story of Love versus Wealth. 

112pp ....25 cts. 

With well defined action, excel- 
lent characterization and thorough- 
ly sustained interest, this compact 
story is attractive in both plot and 
purpose ; and it is withal, forceful 
with the healthful tone of the great 
Northwestern country and people, 
whence its scenes and animation are 
drawn. 


THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY’S DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 45 


Our Smoking Husbands, 

And What to do with 
Them. By Harriet P. Fow- 
ler. 47pp 10c, 

This is a bright and suggestive 
little sketch, where good hits, 
good hints and good common 


sense are most agreeably blended 
for the reader’s entertainment. 

The story of “Our Smoking 
Husbands ” is naively woven about 

I. Mrs. Bird, Bride No. 1. 

II. Mrs. Everett, Bride No. 2. 

III. Mrs. Hammond, Bride No. 3. 


The following volumes of the “ Satchel Series ” were put in press too late to be 
indexed in the current edition of this Catalogue. 


ninety Mine Hays. 

By Clara R. Bush, — pp.. — c. 

A love story, well drawn, and 
written with much spirit and 
animation. Will have a large 
sale. 


Spiders and Riee Padding. 

By Frances G. Stevens, — 

pp 25c. 

A very pleasing, compact and 
pretty story — fascinating and 
striking. 


£3T’The attention of the Trade is asked particularly 
to the “ Satchel Series ” as popular and fast-selling hooks. 

Newsdealers and Railroad agents find them the most 
active and the most profitable stock they can handle. 

Everybody likes them. 

Doing a large business with this Series, and printing in 
very large quantities, we are prepared to make extra- 
special discounts on these books when ordered in quan- 
tities. 


’Twixt Wave and Sky. 

A Novel. By Miss Frances E. Wadleigh. Large 

square 12mo, cloth extra, ink and gold, 261pp $1.25 

This is a story of strong plot and rapid action, with a 
thoroughly natural and clever set of characters. The situations 
are exciting and novel without being sensational. The narra- 
tive is put in a curiosity-exciting form ; the spirit and purpose 
are noble and pure throughout, and the climax is highly roman- 
tic. 

In all respects and parts it is a story of very marked ability, 
and fully entitles the accomplished author to an immediate and 
distinguished rank among the ablest American writers oi 
fiction. 


NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS 

JUST ISSUED BY 

THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

27 Bond Street, New York. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

Analytical Processes; or, the Primary 
Principle of Philosophy. By Key Wm 

L Gill, A. M $2.00 

Beauty of the King. A brief Life of Christ . 
By Rev. A. H. Holloway, A.M.. $1.0C ; 

full gilt, $1.25 

Christian Conception and Experience. By 

Rev. Wm. I. Gill, A.M $1.00 

Ecelesiology: Fundamental Idea and Con- 
stitution of the New-Testament Church. 

By E. J. Pish, D.D $2.00 

Evolution and Progress. An Exposition 
and Defence. By Rev.WM. I. Gill, A.M. 
$1.50 

Life Among the Clergy. By Rev. Robert 

Fisher. $1.25 

Life for a Look. By Rev. A. H. Hollo- 
way 15 cents. 

Complete Scientific Grammar of the 
English Language. By Rev. Prof. W. 

Colegrove $1.26 

Roman Catholicism in the United 

States $1.25 

Scrap Books— How to Make Them. By 
E. W. Gurley 40c. 


’ FICTION AND /ESTHETICS. 

Buccaneers, The. Historical Novel. By 
Randolph Jones. Paper, $1; cloth $1.50 
Deacon Cranky, the Old Sinner. By Geo. 


Guirey $1 50 

Cothurnus and Lyre- By E. J. Har- 
ding $1-00 

Her Waiting Heart- By Louise Cap- 

sadell .....$1.00 

In Dead Earnest. By Julia Brickin- 

...$1.25 

Irene. By Mrs. B. F. Baer $1.00 


Linda ; or, Uber das Meer. By Mrs. H. 

L. Crawford. For Young Folks $1.25 
Mystic Key. A Poetic Fortune Teller 75c 
Onr Wedding Gifts. By Amanda. M. 

Douglas. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth. .$1.00 
Shadowed Perils By M. A. Avery $1.00 
Sumners’ Poems. By S. B. and C. A Sum- 
ner. Illustrated. 12mo. $2 50; 8vo. $4. CO 

Hammock Stories $1.25 

’Twixt Wave and Sky. By F. E Wad- 

leigh $1 25 

Wild Flowers. By C. W. Hubner. . $1.00 


Resurrection of the Body. Does the 
Bible Teach it ? By E. Nisbet, D D.$1.00 
Universe of Lang-uagre. By late Geo. 

Watson. Edited by E H. Watson.$1.50 
Spiritual Communications, from the 
Eternal World. Edited by Henry Kid- 
dle. A. M. $1.50 

Is onr Republic a Failure ? A Dis- 
cussion of Rights and Wrongs of North 
and South. By E. H. Watson $1.50 

Camping in Colorado. With Sugges- 
tions to Gold-Seekers, Tourists and In- 
valids. By S. A Gordon.. $1.00 

Manuscript Paper. Per ream, $1.00 or 
$1.25. By mail, 50c. per ream extra, 
manuscript Manual. How to Prepare 

Manuscripts for the Press 10 cents. 

Mercantile Prices and Profits. By M. R. 
Pilon. {In press .) 

Bare for Wealth. Considered in a Series 
of Letters written to each other by a 
Brother and Sister. Edited by James 

Corley 50 cents. 

What is Demonetization of Gold and Sil- 
ver? By M. R. Pilon 75 cents. 


THE ENCHANTED LIBRARY. 

Queer Little Wooden Captain. By Syd- 
ney Dayre 90c. 

Harry Ascott Abroad. By Matthew 

White, Jr 60c 

THE SATCHEL SERIES. 


How to be Beautiful; Cl. 75c. ; paper 25c. 

Appeal to Moody. loc. 

The Traveler’s Grab-Bag 25c. 

Prisons Without Walls 25c. 

Bonny Eagle - 25c. 

A Story of the Strike 30c. 

Lily’s Lover. 35c. 

Rosamond Howard, Cloth 60c. . . . 25c. 

Voice of a Shell 40c. 

Nobody’s Business 30c. 

Our Winter Eden 30c. 

Our Peggotties 25c. 

Only a Tramp 50 c. 

Who Did It 30c. 

Poor Theophflus, Cloth 60c 25c. 

How it Ended 25c. 

Bera ; or, C. & M. C. Railroad 40c. 

Glenmere 25 c. 

Spiders and Rice Pudding 25c. 

Ninety Nine Days 35c. 

Vic 


V Books mailed, postpaid, to any part of the United States and Canada mxm 
receipt of price by the publishers. 

New Plan of Publishing and Descriptive Catalogue mailed free 













\ V 

' \ 


No. 21. Each Volume Complete. 

THE SATCHEL SERIES. 

. \ 

COMPRISING 

Story, Romance, Travel, Adventure, Humor, Pleasure. 

— BY — 

Popular American authors. 


Handy little volumes. — Philadelphia Record . 

Bright things by American authors. — Whig, Quincy, III. 

Instructive as well as agreeable. — New Bedford Standard. 

Not of the trashy dime novel class. — Glens Falls Messenger. 

Really of a lively and spicy character. — American Monthly Magazine. 

Gotten up in a fresh style and printed in plain type. — Pittsburg Leader. 

Cheap, convenient, and by popular authors. — Epis. Methodist, Baltimore. 

Bright and breezy, and above all, pure in sentiment. — Boston Transcript. 

They deserve well of the reading public. — Illustrated Christian Weekly. 

Acknowledged by all to be bright, elegant and charming. There is nothing trashy about them. — 
Journal, Somerville, Mass. 

Bright and brief— just the books to read in the cars, at the seashore, or during leisure hours at home. 
— Chronicle, Farmington, Me. 

The brightest and best brief works by American authors who are well known to the reading public. 
They have proved very popular, particularly as summer travelling companions. — Boston Home Journal. 

Complete in themselves, and interesting. They fill avoid, for heretofore cheap liteiaturehas been of 
the flashy and sensational kind, injurious not only to the readers, but to the whole community, be- 
cause of its effect. A pleasing feature of the volumes issued by the Authors' Publishing Company is 
that, while they are not dry or insipid, they have a moral tone and effect. — Fall River Herald. 



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